Superman: Bold
by DAISHIGAJO
Summary: Lex Luthor is president, the result of intense economic collapse in the mid 2000s. Lois Lane and Clark Kent of the Daily Planet are at the start of an investigation into the improper diversion of defense contracts to LexCorp. Wayne Enterprises is being squeezed by government investigations. And under it all, a darker plot is about to unfold that will test Superman's character.
1. Chapter 1: Journalism Goes Two Ways

**Chapter One**

_"Let us be quite clear about what Krypton was, and what it was not. Krypton was among the oldest of the planets, and its people counted among the first races to gain sentience. They, alongside others such as the Oans, sought to bring order to a disorganized universe, each in their own way. Each, in their own way, also reaped a different product. Though Kryptonians did not have the telepathic capacities of some other races, or the sheer physical brutality, the sum of their mental and physical abilities made them a force to be reckoned with. Beyond anything else, their capacity to adapt, to control the forces of the universe through science, placed them at the forefront of the ancestral races that sought to shape the order of the stars. Neither muscle nor telepathic power would stop the great ships of the Kryptonian fleet, and over thousands upon thousands of years, our people brought countless worlds under their influence, in the name of peace and progress. They did, what they thought, was best for the prosperity of lesser races."_

_-Jor-El_

The great globe of the Daily Planet spun slowly, as it had for over a century, rotating on the great cogs that had been constructed in the early part of the 20th century. Light glittered off its golden surface, shining against the blue backdrop of the distant skies. At one point it had been the largest building in the city, though now it sat beneath the shadow of the truly mammoth LexCorp Tower that sat upon the other side of the block. LexCorp Tower had been constructed as the namesake of business mogul Lex Luthor following the death of his father. Hoping to get a fresh start, the entire company had been renamed from Luthor Corp to Lex Corp, the old tower sold off and the new one constructed on the profits of massive weapons contracts Lex had secured as the business had transitioned from public agriculture products to weapons development.

Just after noon each day, as the sun began to descend into the west, the shadow of the LexCorp Tower would fall upon the Daily Planet, the usually cheery streets below filled with a sudden gloom, the light in the office windows vanishing as the sun disappeared. Inside, lamps would flick on, electric lights powered up as the staff continued about their daily business, undaunted by the change in their environment. It was the sort of thing they'd become used to doing. At one point owned by Lex, its investigated journalism stifled by his heavy handed ownership and desire to use the paper as his own mouthpiece, they'd suffered along until a temporary dip in LexCorp's fortunes had allowed for a power grab. Now owned by a nearly equally wealthy Bruce Wayne from Gotham City, the Daily Planet had once again been given free reign to pursue whatever leads they might have. It had been a welcome return to normalcy, both for staff that had worked there for years and those who'd only recently started their careers.

Among the relatively new faces was Jimmy Olsen, an intern that was constantly stacked with the worst jobs in the building. He'd arrived a year before, a fresh face looking for a break at the world's most respected paper. He'd dreamed that he'd have an immediate impact, impressing the reporters and editors and earning his way to a paid spot on the staff. As it turned out, he'd spent the majority of his year grabbing coffee and making copies for the staff, and had only slowly been trusted to go out into the field with any of the reporters as they worked different investigations. Of course he was still unpaid, but the experience was amazing, and would hopefully look good on his resume.

Most of his time was spent working with Mrs. Lois Lane-Kent, a star reporter for the planet who'd made a name for herself doing investigations into corrupt business practices of Luthor Corp in the small towns that were scattered outward from Metropolis, the most prominent of them being Smallville. By the time Jimmy arrived at the Planet, Lois had acquired quite a reputation as a thorn in Lex's side. Although the young billionaire had cleared his name by shuffling the bad business practices onto his deceased father, nobody at the paper thought he had clean hands in the issue. Since then, Lois had developed a near obsession with uncovering every new project Luthor had his hand in, and had at one point nearly drawn a lawsuit from her more aggressive articles.

Nobody knew exactly why she was so invested in Luthor's downfall, though it was clear her investigations had pushed her career sky high. She'd spent some time in Smallville herself, sporadically over the years but enough to feel the pinch of Luthor Corp's tactics, and maybe that had driven her investigations. Lex himself had spent time at the Luthor vacation home that sat midway between Metropolis and Smallville, and had helped run the agricultural business for a short time. Still, their relationship was unclear, although obviously antagonistic. Jimmy didn't mind the risks she ran by constantly dogging all the reporters he worked with, she was his favorite. Lois was informative, witty and aggressive, willing to do anything to get her story.

What they were doing today, though, he was in the dark about. Perry White, editor-in-chief at the Planet, had called in Lois and Clark. Clark Kent was another big name at the paper, not only because he was married to the internationally noted Lois Lane, but because his own investigate journalism was well respected. He kept a much lower profile, let Lois go after Lex and preferred to tackle other issues in the city, with a special knack for getting human interest stories. He didn't do the sort of journalism that got you on tv, but his stories were the sort that kept readers coming back to the Planet, let them know about political and social events and generally kept readers up to date on critical issues Metropolis was facing.

All that said, the two did occasionally work together, and for the last half hour the pair had been preparing to go into meeting with Perry. Just a few seconds before the door to his office had slammed shut, and though you couldn't hear him, you could see his form stomping back and forth between the blurred glass windows that kept anyone from seeing clearly into the office. Jimmy, with a rare moment to do whatever he wanted, slinked away to the men's bathroom, slipped his phone out and immediately sent out a tweet.

_"Big case coming. I can smell it. #nextbigthing #journalismWHAT"_

Meanwhile, inside his office, Perry's large, meaty hands rested on the desk in front of him, his eyes moving between different reports that had been brought in this morning. "You know that officially, Lex isn't running the business anymore. You know that right?" he asked, his teeth biting into his jutting lip. "I mean, let's think about this. We're talking about a former business mogul that now has to worry about running the country. If anything came out that he had a hand in running LexCorp right now, it'd be a scandal. Conflict of interest, they'd say."

Lois shook her head, pointing a pen toward Perry. "Exactly, especially with all the military contracts that Wayne Enterprises has been losing since Lex took office. Do you really think that Lex hasn't had a hand in that?"

"Of course I think he could, Lois, but let's be realistic here. Wayne might be losing contracts, but LexCorp hasn't exactly been getting them, either."

"So who has been? You're really going to stand there and tell me the two largest industrial and technology developers in the country are losing out on this many contracts, and to who? Small time upstarts? How are these businesses staying afloat while they're trying to undersell huge corporations like LexCorp and Wayne Enterprises?"

Clark leaned in, setting his paper tablet onto the desk. "Perry, I think that if we dig a little deeper, we'll find these small companies have some tie to LexCorp. If they do, this could be huge. This is a scandal waiting to happen."

Perry White spun around, his large arms crossing in front of him as he stared out at the looming LexCorp Tower. "It's not enough just to tie these small companies to LexCorp. We'll have to show some tie to Lex himself. You know, they've got Marcus Tyson running things now, so he's the one running things at the company. Meanwhile, the DoD might be run by Lex's pick, Gene Hollister, but Hollister's got a long standing, good reputation in the military. He sailed through the nomination process in both the House and the Senate, so we've somehow got to tie all these guys together to prove Lex is still trying to pocket profits for his company. Again, I'm totally on board with the idea, but we've got to get the evidence."

Lois tucked her pen into the breast pocket of her suit jacket. "I totally agree, that's why I'm saying we start small, try to show those companies have ties to LexCorp. From there we can dig up the evidence that Lex is swaying the approval process so that these dummy corporations are really run by him, and that he's unfairly trying to crunch Wayne's profits."

White looked over his shoulder at his two star reporters. "Why squeeze Wayne, though?"

"You mean beside Lex being Lex? Maybe because Wayne's one of the few people that can compete with him on cash terms."

"True."

"And, don't forget, Wayne did try to get involved in the mayoral race in Gotham a while back. So he's not entirely opposed to getting involved with politics, especially since he's been pushing candidates in Congress that would be brave enough to go up against Lex's money. Easier to do that when Wayne is helping fund them."

"Yeah, I see your point." Perry turned around, fingers squeezing at his forehead as he did so. "I just don't want to have to go through another lawsuit war with Lex, you two. I know Wayne bailed us out on that one but Lex was out for blood. If we'd been owned by anyone else, I'm not sure the Planet would still be standing."

Lois smiled. "You know you still would have run with those stories, Perry. You don't know how to do anything else but go after the truth."

"Yeah you're right, but that doesn't mean it isn't a pain in my ass sometimes." He heaved out a deep breath, eyes dropping to the reports on the desk once again. "Okay guys, I'm going to give you two some time away from your weekly duties to go after this, but I need regular updates. If we're not showing good progress, and soon, then we back out. I'm all for nailing Luthor to the post on this, but you don't go after the president of the United States without some hard evidence. Do you understand me?"

"Boss," she replied, rolling her eyes, though her smile never left her lips. "When else haven't I given you the best?"

"Yeah, yeah." His eyes moved over to Clark. "And you, Kent. Am I clear? Nothing less than hard proof. I know you like these stories about saving cats out of trees, but I've seen you do some hard hitting reporting, too. I want that out of you on this one."

Clark adjusted his glasses and quickly grabbed the pad off the desk, fumbling out of his seat as he moved toward the door, Lois close behind him. "You know it, boss," he said as his foot tripped the leg of his chair, the entire seat collapsing to the ground.

"Jesus, Kent," Perry said as he turned around again, covering his face with his hand. "Size of a freaking football player and all the grace of an elephant."

Lois and Clark exchanged smiles as they moved out into the reporter's den, where desks and cubicles bustled with activity as young reporters, looking for a break, worked phone lines and fired off emails. Lois' hand went to Clark's elbow, just the slightest sign of affection, subtle enough to avoid attention in the workplace. Even married, it was important to conduct themselves with the appropriate behavior.

Clark's eyes went to the pad in his hand, fingers flipping through sheets as he looked at the list of companies they'd found. "Lots here that we can tackle, from all over the country. How do you want to handle this?"

"Well I know how you can handle your end," she said with a smug grin, shaking her head as she stepped past him and toward her desk. "Some of us have to make flight arrangements, you know. Although to be clear, if you don't do the same, the Planet's going to get suspicious. They're going to want to know how you got all around the country without booking with an airline."

"Yeah, I could get away with a trip or two, but considering all these companies we have to go through..."

"And we don't have to take off right away. Let's find the best targets we can line up, then go from there. Some of the ties on these are iffy, but the bigger profit contracts? Let's focus on those, dig up what we can, then decide if we have to get out of town to do some deeper digging."

"You're right," he said, scratching at the back of his head. "And here I was already planning to take off."

"Come on Smallville. This is big time," she said with a wink, settling into her chair, her fingers going toward the keyboard. "Come on, get on your end and start doing a little research. I'll take A through D for now, you can handle E through H. Then we'll go on from there."

He nodded, moving to his seat across from her. "This is the worst part of the job you know."

"Yeah yeah, who likes sitting at the computer all day looking at business registries?"

"Not exactly what I expected to do when I left the high school newspaper to do big story reporting here in Metropolis."

She paused a second, the tapping on her keyboard halting for just a moment as she remembered their time back in his small hometown. "Wow, crazy to think people really bought into all those Freak of the Week stories Chloe was posting. Then again, Smallville had some crazy things going on back then."

"To be honest, I'm surprised that nobody ever found out... well, you know."

"Let's be honest, Clark. Someone did. I'm just grateful he doesn't remember anymore."

* * *

Chloe Sullivan-Queen buried her head in her hands as she sorted through the stacks of papers in front of her, each containing a list of numbers so long that she thought, if she continued to stare at them much longer, her head would explode. When she'd first committed to coming to Star City, it was invariably to work for the Star City Register, allowing her to rekindle the journalistic passion she'd had when she ran the school newspaper at Smallville High. She'd been so talented that she'd gotten one of the few intern positions at the Daily Planet, and her future as a reporter had once looked incredibly bright. Now, it was her cousin, Lois Lane, who got all the spotlight as the face of reporting at the Planet.

Not that she wished anything but the best for Lois. No, that wasn't it at all. She'd just spent so much time trying to find what she was supposed to do with herself, she'd forgotten that, as a journalist, she'd been at her best. The problem was that the Daily Planet was one of the few papers in the country running with good profit margins. The Star City Register was performing well, but people were reading the newspaper less and less in an internet age. With the numbers at the Register slipping, it wouldn't be long before layoffs came, and she'd find herself without a job again. At this point, that was unacceptable. After Queen Industries and Luthor Corp had attempted a merger, the fallout of its failure had devastated her husband Oliver's finances and he'd been struggling to restore the company to its former glory.

He worked tirelessly at it, day after day, and they had been slowly returning to firm footing over the years. Still, he'd sunk the majority of his fortune into doing it, and had in turn gotten them into the sort of debt that could make a person dizzy. Week to week, Chloe chipped in helping with their financial reports, the young couple walking a razor's edge between profit and bankruptcy. They were wealthy only in terms of their stock, and Oliver couldn't sell that off unless he wanted to lose the company for good. Meanwhile, they were busy trying to fund his lifestyle as the Green Arrow, and her extra endeavors assisting those with superhuman abilities. With everything going on, she couldn't afford to simply be without a job.

That's when it had dawned on her. Instead of waiting for a layoff, she needed to carve a niche for herself at the paper. As a young journalist she'd been on the cutting edge of online media. With her incredibly computer skills and knack for technology, she'd been one of the first to run online blogs, tweet, post youtube video reports and generally use the internet to generate a following. The Star City Register had none of that, and was far behind the Planet in terms of an online presence. So, confident that she could convince her editor that such a role was necessary, she'd put together a presentation to sell her value as an online journalist. She'd stormed her editors office, explained all the ways the Register could start generating online revenue, presented the role she could play in helping the Register generate online traffic, and left the meeting confident she'd earned her way into a pay raise.

She hadn't, but she'd at least been able to save her job, at least for now. She'd been tasked with generating online reports to go alongside with her normal columns, which basically meant double the work for the same amount of pay. Still, there was a vague promise that at some point she'd be compensated for it, so she'd continued working away at it, filming and uploading her videos, tweeting them out to her followers, maintaining her Facebook page and constantly updating her blog. All while helping with Ollie's finances. And helping superhumans coming to grips with their powers. Not to mention the duties of helping maintain the house, and the occasional intense worrying for Oliver when he went out to fight crime. It was quite the busy life.

Given all she did, it was nice to occasionally get a break from the normal routine. Still, the sort of break she got that day didn't come along often. Her hands had been flipping through another stack of finance reports when a ping at her computer caught her attention, her eyes moving to the small Skype symbol in the toolbar. She spun her chair around, settling her headset onto her desk and checking to see who was calling. Her eyes squinted as she examined the name in front of her.

"Lois?"

An image sprang up on her screen, her cousin's smiling face coming to life. In the background the walls of the Kent apartment were lined with photos of the couple, and Chloe couldn't help but immediately return a smile of her own. "Lois! So glad to see you. You're usually so busy over there at the Planet, I never know when it's a good time to call you."

"Yeah well, you know, keeping tabs on Lex Luthor's a busy job."

"I remember, I used to have to do the same thing. So what's up?"

"Well dear cousin, I was thinking that, maybe, we could help each other out. In fact I think this is something you'd be really keen on. See, we're going after Luthor on some shady business dealing, could be big. Thing is, it's me and Clark working on this, and there's a lot for us to track down. I've got leads to track down out east, Clark's got some things he could follow up on around here, but we'd sure like to have some feet on the ground out where you are. I could ask someone else for help, but on something like this... well, you know, it'd be like the old days. It's big enough for all of us to go after, and it might really help boost your career."

Chloe let slip a frown at those words, though it was true. The Star City Register was not the Daily Planet, and she was fighting for her job. She could use a big break, and there had been a once-upon-a-time when her, Lois and Clark had all gone up against both Lionel and Lex Luthor, trying to expose the company for its many misdeeds. In retrospect, it'd only been because of Clark's amazing gifts that they'd avoided getting killed. In the years following, only Lex's amnesia of his time in Smallville had prevented an all out conflict between LexCorp and everything Clark held dear. Even without those memories, Lex had still managed to raise hell in Metropolis, both legally and illegally. Sometimes it had been Lois and Clark's investigations that had kept him in check. Other times, it had been nothing less than Clark in the blue suit and red cape. Either way, they'd had to save each other enough times, and if Lois really thought there was something big here, Chloe wanted in on it for a number of reasons.

"You know Lois, anytime that you give me a chance to go after Lex, I'm going to take it. Yeah, you're right I could use the boost to my career. Papers aren't selling like they used to in Star City. But, I'd help you regardless. So, what is it you're looking into?"

"Well I don't want to bore you with all the details Chloe. What we're looking at is Lex illegally shifting military contracts to LexCorp to shrink Wayne Enterprise's profits and boost his own. If nothing else, that sort of stain on his rep is exactly what we'd be looking for to get him out of office at the next election."

"No, I hear where you're coming from, and I agree. Anything that lets us get at Lex, that weasel." She huffed, blowing a few strands of her out of her face. "So I'm guessing there's a few companies out here you want me to investigate."

"Right. We haven't been able to tie them directly to LexCorp but I'm sure they're just dummy companies to fatten up his bottom line. Technically he's not running things there but we all know he's the hand behind everything they do."

"Well, I'm not sure about everything. Marcus Tyson may be Lex's stooge, but he's more than capable of acting on his own. I'm not sure how much you know about him, but Tyson's been putting businesses on the map for years, a long time before he met Lex, and it hasn't always looked legal. Besides, have you seen the guy? He's built like a giant, seven feet tall and all muscle. Scary stuff."

"Chloe, you've got a man who can knock a gun out of a man's hand with his bow and arrows, and I've got one that can fly. I think we come out ahead on this one. Besides, is this Tyson guy smarter than either one of us? I highly doubt it."

Chloe shook her head, grinning. "Oh Lois, how do I argue that. Anyway, I'm onboard with this idea, I just need you to send me a list of the companies you want me to track down. Bet you I'm still the better journalist and get my information before you get yours."

Lois cocked an eyebrow, her lips curling upward at her cousin's brashness. "You're on, Chloe. I'm getting a bottle of wine out of this, just so you know."

"I think I'll be the recipient of that, thanks."

"Hah, we'll see. Anyway, I'll email you the information in a few minutes. Hope you have the time to jump on this."

"Not really," she said, holding up a stack of papers. "But I'll find a way to make time. I always do."


	2. Chapter 2: Brewing A Storm

**Chapter Two**

_"For 100,000 years the people of Krypton spread their influence across the stars, spreading peace and prosperity and presiding over the younger races of the Universe. Most planets they integrated peacefully, merging them into the empire and bringing the scientific and economic benefits of Kryptonian technology and policies. Some, though, resisted, and these Krypton subdued by force. Judging them warlike, or ignorant for their resistance to their plans, Kryptonians brought quick ends to the rebellions that sparked as its began to encompass ever growing numbers of planets. At every turn, Kryptonians truly believed it was better to wage war for a brief time, if only to bring lasting prosperity to the future generations of the conquered races. A Kryptonian's greatest weakness is the one he is least aware of: his pride in thinking he or she knows better than those less advanced." _

_- Jor-El_

Warm sunlight poured down over the golden wheat fields of Kansas, a gentle wind sweeping the tops of the stalks and sending a wave through the fields that carried onward to the fence separating the Kent farm from its acreage. A two story structure that sat adjacent to a red barn, it was something out of a Norman Rockwell painting, a picture of American life from a bygone era. Time stood still on the Kent property, far enough from Metropolis that its towering spires were not visible on the horizon, but close enough to feel the effects of its business and political decisions. Jonathan Kent had spent the better part of his life defending the farm, bring in the crops year to year, following in his own father's footsteps. It hadn't always been easy. Lionel Luthor had, at one point, aggressively sought to buy out his property and that of his neighbors. They'd been squeezed as the agricultural giant had tried to monopolize the farming industry in Smallville. Still, they'd emerged triumphant. After Lionel's death, it seemed that Lex would be content moving LexCorp in a different direction, investing heavily into military contracts. That didn't mean the Kent family had it easy.

The sound of the front door clicking open caught Jon by surprise, and he quickly shuffled a stack of papers away, stuffing them into the drawer beneath the kitchen counter. His face shot upward as the image of his son appeared in the kitchen doorway, his lovely wife beside him. Even if Clark hadn't been blessed with amazing superpowers, his physical frame was that of an athlete. Jon could remember the day his son had grown taller than him, and he'd been forced to start looking up to see into Clark's eyes. Then there were the broad shoulders, and that barrel chest. It hadn't been a surprise when he'd been asked to play football for the Smallville Crows, but Jonathan had opposed it from the start. He knew what would happen if Clark lost control, even for a second. It was something his son had only barely begun to understand at the time but that he now fully contemplated. After all, Clark was flying all over the world these days, saving people. He knew his own powers better than Jon could have ever imagined doing.

"Clark!" the old man exclaimed as he crossed over to his son, the two embracing each other tightly for a moment. Jon was still a muscle of a man, even if those muscles were weakening with age, and he held a tight grip on his son for just an instant. "Glad you came to pay a visit." His face skipped over to Lois, her bright smile shining in the sun. He could still remember when they'd invited her to live with them on the farm, while she got her footing. Now her and his son were married. "Please, Lois. Hope you're not causing too much trouble for my boy up in Metropolis."

"Are you kidding me Mr. Kent? Clark gets into enough trouble without my help."

Clark shook his head, removing the glasses from his face and tucking them into the breast pocket of his suit. "Is that what today's going to be?" he asked with a smile, lightly punching at his father's shoulder. "Pile on Clark day? Because I think I can handle my own."

Pa Kent smiled as he turned to the side, heading toward the rear door of the kitchen. "I don't doubt that, Clark. "You've proven it enough over the years." He yanked on the handle of the screen door and stuck his head out for just a moment. "Martha! Lois and Clark are here." Jon hauled himself back inside, turning toward the pair. "She's been splitting time between working out in the garden and cooking up dinner. That woman was always the hardest worker I ever knew."

"That's moment alright," Clark replied with a shake of his head, his eyes darting toward the kitchen counter for just a moment. "I'm guessing she's excited with Thanksgiving just around the corner?"

"Oh, you bet Clark. You know how much your mom loves the holidays. She's already got a turkey lined up over at Jerry Lowell's far, so you'd better be on time when it rolls around."

"Short of an alien invasion, I think I'll be able to manage getting here for Thanksgiving turkey," he said, grinning as he walked over to the table, hand resting at his stomach. "Thanksgiving dinner's a while away though. Let's focus on tonight's dinner. I'm starving, and there's nothing as good as mom's cooking." His eyes moved to Lois, whose smirk was boring into the side of his head. "Sorry, Lois."

"It's fine Clark," she said as she folded her arms at her waist, leaning back against the frame of the doorway. "But next time you want one of my amazing microwave dinners, you'd better be prepared to use that heat vision of yours, because I'm not opening one of those for you."

* * *

Dinner had run late, as it usually did when the Kents had Clark over, and night had fallen on the farm. Plates were still sitting out, cleaned of their contents, a few spare bread rolls heaped in a basket at the center of the table. Shelby, their family dog, had been excited to see Clark at the start of dinner, but as the hours rolled by had settled onto his stomach, lying at the side of Clark's chair at the table. Years before they'd save the poor dog from a series of experiments that had used Kryptonite to try and give the dog super powers, but the effect had been temporary. Ever since, Shelby had been a part of the family, and had aged gracefully as an icon of the Kent farm.

Martha Kent, as always, had been overjoyed to see her son. Almost as soon as she'd entered the kitchen she'd moved straight from hugging him to preparing to serve dinner, which Clark had insisted on helping with. She'd resisted, on principal, but had given in with only a bit of prodding. As a mother, she took whatever time she could with her son. Still, the conversation that dominated the night, of Lois and Clark's upcoming investigation into LexCorp's potential contract manipulation, hadn't been pleasant. They all retained bad memories of when Lex had been a perennial figure in the town.

Martha shook her head. "Even at his best, you always felt something dark inside of him. I just couldn't help feel, though, that somehow we could save him from his father's influence." She turned to her husband, a hand gesturing outside. "Jon, you remember when he was staying here, after his father disowned him? He was as hard a worker as any farm hand we've ever hand. I remember him doing backbreaking work out there, trying to earn his keep."

Jonathan nodded, though his face was grim. "That was the good Lex, something we didn't see enough of. Look, we all know, there's no such thing as a purely good or purely evil man. We all do things we're not proud of, but it's how we respond, what we do as a whole, that determines how people judge us." His eyes shifted to Clark, hands folding on the table. "Son, you tried more than anyone to get Lex to see the light. I'm not saying you always made the right decisions, but Lex never had the right to blame you for his downfall the way he did. Regardless of whether you weren't always truthful with him, that didn't give him an excuse to do the things he did, and he constantly used your secrecy as a reason to continue in his downward spiral. Honestly? That's a coward."

Clark couldn't meet his father's gaze, instead looking just aside, out the window and into the field. "Yeah, I know dad. I had to keep trying though. I couldn't just let him become like his father. But, I guess I wasn't as successful as I'd hoped I'd be. In the end, Lex isn't just like his father. He's worse."

"That he is, son." He leaned back in the chair, hand locked in front of him. "I'm just glad he doesn't remember his time here in Smallville. Even not knowing your identity, he's caused you enough trouble in Metropolis over the years since then. Let's forget the villains he's hired or the machines he's created to fight you, we're talking about a guy that's figured out your weakness to Kryptonite. And he's president of the United States? His reelection is coming up next year. If you two can come up with something to get him out of office, you need to go for it. I'm as forgiving as the next man but Lex is way beyond forgiveness."

"I know dad. I know." He sighed, his barrel chest heaving upward as he did, eyes still locked on the evening outside.

"You still want to save him."

Clark turned to his father, nodding. "I wasn't sent here just to inspire good people, dad. If I can somehow change people like Lex, then anything's possible."

"I'm just not sure you can do it at this point, Clark. He's too far down his own, twisted path." At that, silence hung in the air between the small group, each of them at a loss for words. Finally, Jon pushed his chair away from the table, getting to his feet. "Hey, enough of that talk. I've got to take care of checking the grounds before I go to sleep, but I'll be back in a few minutes." His feet carried him to the rear door, but he flicked a finger backward at his son, winking. "If you leave before I'm back you're not welcome at Thanksgiving dinner, got that?"

"Got it dad," Clark said, his smile returning as he watched his father dissapear outside. For a moment he hesitated, listening until he knew his dad was far away enough that he could start talking again. He leaned into the table, staring at his mother. "Mom. What's wrong with dad?"

Distracted, she glanced at him, her hand running through her hair until she'd wrapped her fingers around the back of her neck. "I don't know what you mean?"

"Mom. It's me," he said, gesturing at himself. "When I came in, I could hear dad stuffing papers pretty quickly into the kitchen drawer. I hear his heart beating pretty quick, not to mention see it. His pulse was up, his breathing was shallow. What was he looking at that had him so upset?"

Ma Kent looked aside toward the kitchen drawer for just a moment, sighing. She knew she couldn't lie to Clark, not if he really wanted to know the truth. "Clark, the truth is that things aren't good for us here on the farm right now. Money's tight."

"Tight?" Clark sat back. "How? What's going on? Things have been great ever since Lex got out of the agriculture business."

"Yeah, well, he's not the only business man that wants in on Smallville's farming business."

"There's somebody new?"

"Well, not a someone. A something. It's an agriculture company called Miles Farming and Agriculture. Farming's tough, Clark. You know that. To bring a crop to harvest you've got to make sure insects don't kill them, and a lot of pesticides are illegal, plus unhealthy. Your father and I don't want to be selling bad food, but the only alternative in this area is Miles. They've got these seeds we basically have to use, designed to resist insects, but also to resist a type of pesticide that Miles sells. So we have to use Miles' seeds, and their pesticide. It's expensive, plus we can't reuse the seeds the following year, so we end up having to buy even more from them. You keep doing that year after year and, well, it's going to be hard to run a family farm like this. Miles has been buying up all the old Luthor Corp plots that were scattered after Lex left the farming business, making huge farms where they can raise their own crops and bring them to market. We have to buy from them, then we have to compete against them, and to be honest with you it's driving us into bankruptcy. I'm not sure how we hold out much longer."

Clark shook his head, eyes boring into his mother's. "That's legal? How can the government be okay with allowing a company to force its products on people, not to mention compete against them in business? That means Miles will always have a cheaper product."

"And always undersell us. Your dad thinks the only way for us to survive is to go the organic route, since it's the complete opposite of what Miles does, but that's going to take a huge investment. All natural routes to combat pests, new types of natural seeds to replace Miles' genetically modified ones, and all sorts of other things." He shoulder hung, her face falling as she struggled for words. "We didn't want to bother you with it Clark, but we may not have the farm after this year."

"No. No, that's not right." He looked over to Lois, hesitant, his hand moving to envelope her. "Lois, I know I said I'd help you on this case with LexCorp, and I will. It's just..."

Lois smiled, lowering her head slightly. "Smallville, come on, you don't have to explain anything to me. I get it, you need to take a second to look into this Miles company. I got it. I mean, I'd rather have you on the LexCorp case with me than not, but this is something you've got to handle." She turned to look over at Martha, still trying to appear chipper. "Mrs. Kent, I know me and Clark have spent all night talking about how we need to go after this Luthor case, but I don't like big companies bullying anyone."

Martha looked up, a smile returning to her face, though it was faint. "Thank you Lois, you've always been so kind." Her eyes went between the two of them, that smile widening slightly. "Look you two, the farm's okay for the rest of the year. Don't give up on this LexCorp case, Clark. Your father wouldn't want that, and neither do I. Lex can't be allowed to have that much power, that's something we all know, so you've got to get to the bottom of it."

Clark shook his head. "Mom, it's not one or the other. Lois was thinking about heading out east to do most of her footwork, and I was going to stick around here, anyway. I can work at both of these. I'm the fastest man in the world, remember?"

Lois looked aside at her husband, a slight grin on her face. "Are you, Clark? I think Bart might have something to say about that."

"Hey, what?" he protested, shooting Lois an offended look. "Now, listen, Bart just surprised me during that race, that's all. I underestimated him because I didn't know just how fast he could go, oaky? How was I even supposed to know?"

She held her hands up, shrugging, her grin never fading. "Hey Clark, I'm just stating what happened, that's all. Prove me wrong. I believe in you, after all, I just, you know, need the proof."

Clark turned away, silently fuming as the two women at the table shared a laugh at his expense. He sighed, finally allowing himself a laugh, the family ending the night on a high note.

* * *

Oliver Queen rubbed a green leather encased hand through his spiky blonde hair, shaking his head at his wife who, he'd just now learned, was about to embark in an investigative case that might involve Lex Luthor, former CEO of LexCorp, now president of the United States, and often times villain that had gone to war against both him and Clark in the past.

"This feels like the 2000s, you know that?" he asked, watching her wrap a brown trench coat around her frame as he sat at the edge of their bed. "I mean, I know you're here in Star City to do investigate journalism, but I thought at least we'd moved past this phase."

She glanced over her shoulder, smiling because she knew he was feigning his protest. "And what phase would that be?"

"Oh, you know, the 'Clark is the world's hero, Lex is his ultimate villain, but for some reason, despite the fact he can move a mountain, go without breathing, and run faster than sound, he needs people like you and Lois to help him take Lex down' phase. That's the phase I pretty much thought we'd gotten past. He's got the blue and red on these days, you know."

Chloe turned fully to face her husband, a brown fedora in her hand that she brought to her head, tipping its edge down so that it slanted across her eyes. "How do I look?"

He tossed a hand up, flustered. "Uh, like a sexy Humphry Bogart, if that makes any sense?"

"Glad to know you think the star of Casablanca is sexy."

"Veeeery funny, Chloe."

"I know." She took a few steps toward him, setting her hands on his shoulders. "It's cute when you think you can stop me from doing something, you know?"

"Honestly, at this point, I don't realistically think I can get you to change your mind about anything once you've got it made up," he said, settling his hands on her hips as he looked up into her eyes. "So where's my beautiful investigator going tonight?"

"Oh, a few places. This is a reconnaissance mission Mr. Queen, so I'm just scouting a few locations around the city Lois wanted me to look into. I'll get a bit more in depth with my investigations once I know what I'm looking for."

"And you think the 1920's gumshoe look is the way to stay under cover while you're snooping around the city?"

She faked a frown, grabbing the top of her hat and tossing it into the corner of the room. "I'll have you know it's getting cold and rainy outside. I'll leave the hat behind, but the coat's coming with me. Besides, who are you, of all people, to criticize how I stay inconspicuous? You're the one trying to hide in the shadows while you're wearing a garish green hood and a bow and arrow. At least Batman wears black."

Oliver shook his head at the mention, flustered. "That guy stole my shtick, you know that?"

"Yeah, yeah Ollie, you only remind me at least once a week."

"It's true! We're talking about a guy who, if the reports are right, is basically running around his hometown without any superpowers and using fancy tricks and gadgets to track down criminals. _That was my shtick!"_

"Hate to tell you darling, but I think his a little more popular at the moment. See, that's one thing you don't have that Superman and Batman do. They've got symbols, so it's easy to sell them. You don't."

"Oh, I'm sorry, when I was investing my fortune into developing advanced weapons for fighting crime, I didn't realize I'd have to spare some money for marketing. Besides, those two clowns are running around town with terrible costumes. One's got an S on his chest, the other's got a bat. How original. At least I look like I'm the spirit of Robin Hood."

She laughed as she stepped away from her husband, returning to the dresser. "Alright big shot, I get it, you're the original costumed crusader of our modern era."

"Well it's true, isn't it? I was wearing the green tights a long time before Clark dared to put on his blue ones."

"No, I'll give you that, you were the first." Chloe smiled as her fingers sorted through a number of items laid out on the dresser's surface, picking up a comb and some chapstick. "So where are you off to tonight? Got any leads or are you winging it tonight?"

"Actually, I thought it was funny you mentioned you were investigating some companies around town, because I'm sort of doing the same. I've got word on some pretty heavy duty tech being shipped in, nothing too dangerous on its own but when you combine it all together, I don't know. It just looks suspicious, since it's all coming in at the same time, even if it's through different sources. I get the feeling that somebody's trying to stay out of the spotlight. By ordering all these parts from different sources and having them shipped in from different places, it'd be easy to miss if they were building something dangerous."

"Any names you've got to follow?"

"Nobody's names, just one company name. Montoya Technologies, sort of a recent startup specializing in military contracting."

Chloe stopped in mid motion, the chapstick she'd been about to tuck into her pocket now frozen in her fingertips. "Defense contracting? Like, they're working with the U.S government."

"Yeah, DoD's given them at least one in the last year. The files are locked up pretty tight and honestly, I would have asked you to look into it given you're a hacking genius, but since you're going out on the town I'm just going to look into this one the old fashioned way."

She spun around, hands burying into her pockets. "Hey. Do me a favor?"

"A favor?" His eyebrow cocked upward, suspicious. "What's that?"

"I didn't tell you exactly the nature of the companies I was going to be looking into, but they're all DoD involved, defense contract types. I didn't read all the names Lois gave me, was just going to go down her list, but if Montoya turns up anything suspicious, let me know? This all might be involved somehow."

"Wait, what exactly are you investigating again? All you told me was that Lex might be trying to run LexCorp through some dummy companies, you never said that this might involve defense contracts." He got to his feet, crossing over to her. "Chloe, if you're messing around with the U.S. government, this could go downward, fast."

"Says the man that's about to put on green tights and sneak onto the premises of one such defense contractor?"

Oliver frowned, stepping over to his wife, his hands locking gently upon his arms. "Hey, just be careful, alright? That's all I'm asking."

"Ollie. You know I will." She tilted her chin upward, Oliver leaning in for a moment as the two shared a brief kiss. As she pulled away, her hand raised upward, a finger tapping on his chest. "Just, do me a favor too, and be careful yourself. I might be sneaking around the city, but I'm not sneaking into any buildings. You're doing something just as risky, if not more so."

"Yeah. I got it." He smiled, a chuckle escaping his lips. "And hey, for next time I might make my outfit in black instead of green, that way I'm not so 'garish'. Then everybody could call me something cool, like the Black Hood, and hey? Maybe I'd get a toy line going or something."

"Oliver. You are such a nerd."


	3. Chapter 3: Four Roads To The Truth

**Chapter Three**

_"The last great age of Krypton was the Age of Science. Defined by an unparalleled advance in technology for an already, highly advanced society, Krypton excelled to a level previously unmatched in scientific advancement. Biologically, they enhanced their bodies, becoming capable of equalling their greatest rivals in telepathic thought or physical capability, simply by genetically engineering their children. Their ships flashed across the Universe in a blink of an eye, carrying their great culture to the far reaches of space. It was also the era when Krypton recognized that forcing its culture upon others, regardless of their intent, was inherently wrong. The Kryptonian military was reduced in favor of bolstering its scientific pursuits, its people's grip upon other cultures loosened in the hope that forgiveness could be granted. By then, however, it was far too late."_

_-Jor-El_

Clark's teeth nibbled lightly on the eraser of his pencil, which was perched precariously between his lips. Even when absent mindedly surfing the internet, he had to be aware of his surroundings in ways most humans were incapable of understanding, and could never understand. Maybe his friend Bruce, with his insane commitment to physical and mental precision, was in the ballpark of the level of control Clark had to exert. Still, nobody knew what it was like to have to constantly be aware that, with a simple breath, he could bring a skyscraper crashing to the ground.

Shortly after his parents had gone off to sleep, he'd seen Lois to her car, wishing her a fond farewell as she'd driven off to the airport. He'd stayed behind to scour the net in hopes of determining who or what was behind Miles Farming and Agriculture. He wasn't necessarily convinced that the company was corrupt. For all he knew, it was simply going about the business that many large corporations did, regardless of the small business owners and farmers they might hurt in the process. Corporations weren't people, they were just... well, they were just things run by people. Few business owners had the individual influence and oversight that someone like Lex did, so Clark had little reason to believe Miles Farming was some sinister group.

Which didn't mean he was uninterested in how they'd suddenly become so prominent around Smallville. It was curious that in an age of economic collapse, so many small companies, like the ones he and Lois were chasing in pursuit of Lex, were suddenly springing to life. Under any other circumstance he might even be happy that business was booming, but it was they way it was booming, and the person these companies might be connected to, that drew his concern. As a young man, he'd been too gullible and naive. Even now, as an adult, he preferred to give people the benefit of the doubt. It was both an admirable quality and a concern, since it had put him in jeopardy on several occasions. Bruce approached life differently. Rather than giving anyone the benefit of the doubt, he started out suspicious, and trusted few people immediately. In his experience, Bruce found people to be more prone to selfishness than selflessness. Maybe he was right, but Clark had never been able to go down that path. He really couldn't afford to. With his powers, acting from a place of distrust, doubting everyone from the start, could lead to ruinous results. The abuses he could commit with his talents were measureless.

Sometimes, though, he did wish he had Bruce's knack for uncovering the truth. The man had always had a way of piecing together distant pieces of information. If he had any superpowers, that was it, an ability to see the plot when nobody else could, and the ability to plan for it. Clark was smart, smarter than just about anyone on the planet given his extensive ability to learn, an inherent trait of his Kryptonian heritage. Still, he didn't have that gut instinct, that hunch, that Bruce used to solve his cases. If he'd had that talent, Clark's career as a reporter might have flown into the stratosphere.

Still, digging through the records now, it was hard not to see that somethign unusual was up with Miles Farming. For such a recently established company, it had quickly gained capital and invested into bioengineering in its seed lines. Over a five year period they'd gone from nonexistent to bioengineering juggernaut. During the same span of time, legislation in Congress had made it much easier for them to push their genetically engineered seeds and pesticides, as well as their own, large scale farms, the same that threatened the Kent family. There was no connection to the Department of Defense, no connection to Lex, but they'd had some fortunate runs to become so quickly established. Clark couldn't help but shake his head. Their luck was just too, too good.

"If I were Bruce..." he said aloud, fingers resting on his solid jaw. "What would I say if a company had sprung into existence just before Lex became president, then gotten the benefit of all sorts of legislation that allowed it to push its products, and also compete locally with farmers?" He shook his head, eyes locked on the screen. "But Lex got out of agriculture for a reason. Why would he be fronting a small company like Miles for anything? Are these seeds some sort of mutant lines that become lethal, living plants down the line?" He frowned as he said those words, sighing. "That's too corny even for Lex when he's in his mad scientist phase. So why's he so interested in farming again?"

* * *

Lois' plane departed Metropolis only hours after she'd left Smallville, arriving just in time to check her baggage and hop onboard. Her destination wasn't far, and the flight itself took just a little over two hours, which she spent in a mix of anticipation and dread. She loved Metropolis with all her heart, and had always been a big city girl. The high rising skyscrapers, the glistening glass panels, the cutting edge technology, it was all a reason that Metropolis was held up as the City of Tomorrow. Much as she hated to acknowledge it, a ton of Lex's technology had been put to use revitalizing the streets and towers, upgrading them from disintegrating structures into shining beacons of the future. Some parts of Metropolis lagged behind others, and there were plenty of parts of the city, especially toward its edges, that remained a century behind. Crime was higher there, and security just a bit less assured, but you never, truly felt scared in Metropolis. Between its vaunted police force, the technology used to secure its streets and, of course, Superman, her home city was the pride of the country. Driving toward it, from a distance, you could see it glistening against the clear skies like a jewel. Even the weather around Metropolis was perfect.

However, as her plane continued onward, the clear skies began to fall away. At first strips of clouds, thin and whispy, began to zip past the window. Her eyes prowled the skies, watching as those whisps began to grow thicker, mixing and rumbling with one another into thick, rolling waves of cumulus. They began to consume the plane, and only seconds later began to roar and spark as lighting and thunder began to echo and resound. Droplets of water began to form upon the window, and the plane shook as it plowed through the growing storm, the lights in the cabin flickering for just an instant as they plunged into the heart of the clouds. A few people around her looked nervous, a few couples touching hands, while some parents assured their children. Lois, on the other hand, looked bored. It was always this way.

She watched as the clouds began to thin somewhat, allowing her a view of the city far below. It was split in two, with half the city lodged against the coast, and the second half sitting on an island that jutted out from the ocean, two mammoth bridges serving to join both halves of the city. The divide between the two halves of the city acted almost as a buffer, safeguarding the inhabitants on the mainland from some of the insanity that unfolded on the island. Still, nothing ever, really, made this place entirely sane. The mainland might get less of the crime, but it was still a target for some of the most insane criminals she'd ever documented. Metropolis might have its share of power hungry megalomaniacs, but the crimes committed here were of an altogether different nature.

Even at this height, she could make out different parts of the city. Its decor was much like old Metropolis, and at one point you could have called them sister cities. At one point they'd shared the classic art deco style of architecture and art. The streets still hummed with old gas lantern lamps, the structures were starting to decay, stone statues were streaked with green from acidic rain, a perpetual mist hung in the air as the street gutters released heat into the atmosphere, and potholes marked the streets like craters on the moon. And that was besides the rampantly accelerating crime.

As she disembarked from her plane, she couldn't help but chuckle as she watched passengers mulling about, some almost looking afraid to walk out of the airport terminal, out of the eyes of the police and security that cared for the facility, and into the unsecured streets. At one in the morning, in this city? Most sane people would say no to that. Then again, Lois had never been entirely sane. A military brat, one who backed down from nothing, who'd squared off with potentially the worst man in the world in Lex Luthor, not to mention gone through a who's who of otherwordly, superpowered villains, she didn't find any reason not to take a confident step right out the front doors of the terminal.

It wasn't until she did, and was engulfed in the steam and towering, teeth like high rises of the city, that she felt her first tinge of hesitation. Pulling at her coat, she tightened it around her, protecting her body the best she could from the ongoing rain that was covering the streets, a slick shimmer coming off the cement sidewalks. A row of taxis sat directly in front of the airport exit, and the few people daring to leave at this hour were quickly dashing into the rear seats of the awaiting vehicles. She had no doubt that at least one of them would end up being reported missing in the morning's newspaper.

As she glanced between the cars, she noticed a hand waving toward her from the passenger window of a nearby taxi. Without a second's hesitation she crossed the distance, tossing open the rear door and throwing the little luggage she'd packed inside, only moments later sliding into the back as well. With a satisfying _thump _she closed the car door, sighing, and only then noticing the intense strain she felt in her chest. She'd been more tense than she'd thought.

"Where to?" the voice from the front seat asked, and she smiled, her eyes darting to the driver's rear view mirror.

"Really Alfred. We both know Bruce won't be happy that I'm here."

A slight chuckle came from the elderly gentleman at the wheel. "Well Ms. Lane, I'm glad to see you too."

"Oh yeah. Always fun to be back in Gotham."

* * *

Oliver Queen, now dressed in his garb as the Green Arrow, watched from a distance as several large trucks nuzzled against the warehouse entry that sat at the west of the Montoya Technologies campus. It was one of a number of small businesses that had sprung up in the east end of Star City as the technology explosion had resumed, allowing the city to once again make economic progress by pushing its tech sector. Queen Industries had been a recipient of that boom, one reason he was able to afford high tech gadgets again, such as the cutting edge nightvision goggles he now wore, capable not only of seeing in zero light but also zooming in to incredible distances.

Goggles was too cumbersome a way of describing them, though. They sat neatly and tightly against his head, small, nothing like those overly large paper weights the military used. "I'd like to see that Bat jerk get his hands on something like these," he mumbled, shaking his head as he did. "Then again Ollie, be honest with yourself. He probably already has one. Guy's got a freaking jet for pete's sake. Why didn't I build myself a jet when I had the money?"

He placed a hand over his mouth, forcing himself to quiet down as he focused on what was being unloaded from the vehicles. He'd found himself a good perch on a nearby warehouse, and had spent the better part of the night staring at nothing. In fact, only too late had he realized the night vision portion of his goggles would be useless. After all, these guys wouldn't be unloading trucks in the pitch dark. Why in the world did he need night vision for? He'd shrugged it off, and now was content to use the high quality zoom function of the goggles to observe what was unfolding.

"Well these guys aren't lookers," he noted, watching the many, mostly bald headed, leather jacketed workers as they hauled out the smaller packages by hand and the larger crates using a forklift. They weren't his immediate interest, though. He was definitely more interested in the ones standing guard around the warehouse doors and near the trucks, their grimy hands locked on highly polished, silver rifles that looked almost alien. "Those don't look right for some hired goons working the docks at a low level tech developer," he said with a frown, his eyes focusing on the weapons they were slinging around. "Not to mention, not too many companies can afford those types of weapons, either."

They weren't hard to identify, and he wouldn't need to run a computer check later to tell what they were. Since superhuman activity had started picking up around Metropolis over the last few years, traditional police weaponry had become, to be blunt, useless. Sure, it was fine against your day to day criminals, but when you had someone like Bizarro, a real heavy stomping around town and threatening to bring down some skyscrapers, you needed more than bullets to stop him.

Shortly after the rise in superhuman crime, Lex had introduced a new type of energy based weapons system, rifles that used energy cartridges instead of bullet clips. The rifles could fire hundreds of shots before exhausting, had tons more punch than a bullet, and could be used on a dozen different settings, some low enough to incapacitate a human and others so strong that even Clark had once had his shoulder jerked back by the force of it. Not that he'd actually looked hurt by the blast.

Not that this proved anything definitively. It just meant that whoever was running Montoya had either ties to Luthor, or the money to buy his weapons. These things weren't cheap, and as far as he knew had never been designed with the general public as a potential audience. The strongest versions of these rifles had been military grade weapons, and everything being used by the police were far weaker, even as strong as they were. The energy cells they used for power were incredibly expensive all on their own, not to mention the rifles themselves. "Montoya must have some serious cash to be able to afford these things. But how's that possible if they've never finished out a contract, and they barely got off the ground a few years ago?"

He'd been lying prone to reduce the chance anybody could spot him, but now clambered to his feet, examining the streets running toward the warehouse. Montoya Technologies might have been just one more warehouse and office complex among a number of others out here, but they'd gotten some prime space. The entire exterior was lined with a fence, and the main entry was held down by a security booth. The front of the office buildings were filled with little more than parking lots, but the entire area was flooded with lights from the lamposts in the area. There were no lights in the offices inside, but crossing from the entry to the main doors was out of the question. The road that twisted away from the entry gate and toward the warehouses was filled with darkness though, with only an occasional lamppost illuminating the street. He supposed that made sense, since the parking lot would be where you might be concerned about theft or a mugging.

"So it's just get past the gate and go in through the warehouse," he whispered to himself. "Fair enough. I think I've done enough of these sorts of missions over the years." Even as he said this, he had to remind himself not to get too aggressive once he was on the ground. This was a reconnaissance job, and all he wanted was information. He didn't need to be starting trouble that would shut down any future investigations into Montoya. Worse, if they were connected with Chloe's case, and this hurt her chances on getting the story, he'd be sleeping on the couch for a while.

He shook the notion out of his head, swiftly moving toward the fire escape that descended off the side of the building, his padded booths only softly striking on the metal frame beneath him as he returned to ground level. He kept to the shadows of the buildings, listening for the sounds of any approaching security staff that might be manning the warehouses this late at night. Quietly but swiftly, he moved down the streets, passing across alleys between the vast storage facilities and occasional office buildings, his senses on high alert as he moved toward the Montoya facility.

The street he was on ended at a portion of the outlying fence just east of the guard post, and from what he could take in, there was little in the way of tight security along the fence itself. An occasional lamp post jutted out from the ground, illuminating a section of the perimeter, but, for the most part, the entire place looked as committed to security as a comedian would to dramatic acting roles. It would work in his favor, and he quickly sprinted toward the edge of the fence, launching himself at the top. In one smooth motion he propelled himself up and over, his body falling into a crouching position before he launched himself forward, sprinting at high speed into the blackness between the light of the lampposts, his body moving at a full run toward the warehouse.

"Note to self," he whispered as he eyes the guards in the distance, his goggles provided a perfect view of them that they could not return, "Make sure to design lighter bow."

* * *

Chloe Sullivan brushed several strands of hair out of her eyes as she stared at the building in front of her, her car parked in neutral just a block down from the facility. Like all the rest she'd explored that night, it was nondescript, and she felt almost silly to be sitting there, having followed yet another of Lois' leads to what seemed to be just a simple office and warehouse complex. "I really should have stayed in tonight and looked these places up on the internet first. Guess I got too excited." She huffed, her hands tightening on the wheel of the car. "Come on Chloe, think this through. What's the connection? We've got a dozen new companies here in Star City alone. Same around Metropolis. Same around Gotham. They're all pushing to get defense contracts from the government, but besides that, what's the connection? Why these places, specifically?"

For a moment, the stacks of papers she'd been filing through earlier flashed through her head, the plunging profit margins flashing rapidly in her eyes. He'd been reluctant to do it at first, but Oliver had begun to pursue defense contracts through Queen Industries, starting just a few years before. It had been about a year before Lex had become president, right around the same time that Wayne Enterprises had started aggressively expanding too, and at the same time that Wayne had purchased the Daily Planet. Now, if Lois was explaining things right, new companies were starting up in the same places that Wayne and Oliver were running their businesses. Although they weren't as large a player in weapons development, Queen Industries had been able to step up its expansion considerably, almost entirely due to the influx of money from the Defense Department.

"So is the connection not between the companies within a city... but between the cities themselves?" she asked, biting her lip as she pondered the question. "I should have asked Lois to send me the full list instead of just ones in Star City, but what if this is some sort of retaliation? What if Lex is just trying to get back at Bruce and Ollie? Could it really be that simple though, Chloe? Could Lex really be taking this sort of risk to squeeze business competitors? Maybe not legal, but not the stuff of super criminals. So what's he really after?"

In the midst of all this, she suddenly had her attention caught as she noticed a pair of men, idly walking around the perimeter of the office facility. Until now she hadn't seen anyone at any of the locations she'd visited, outside of the occasional security guard doing rounds around the streets. These two, though, didn't seem like security guards. They were far away, both of them casually strolling along, with what seemed like weapons slung around their backs. Her hands quickly went to the purse in her passenger seat, her fingers digging through its contents until she yanked out a pair of thin goggles, which she quickly adjusted and fit around her head, the elastic strap stretching and snugly fitting around the back of her skull. "What did Ollie call these? The Arrow Eyes? Pretty lame."

A press of the switch on the side of the goggles turned them on, and for the first time that night she was truly grateful that it was nighttime. Her car was parked within the shadowy street leading toward the office building ahead, cloaked in darkness, while her goggles gave her nighttime vision and extended visibility. With a simple adjustment at the side of the goggles, the view of the two men, distant though they were, quickly came rushing into her view, magnified with incredible resolution. The two men weren't dressed in anything resembling a uniform, instead draped in jackets to protect against the growing cold enveloping Metropolis as the winter came on, their hands protected by leather gloves. None of that was particularly interesting. The weapons on their backs, on the other hand, were.

"What are those..." she mused, squinting, the resolution of the magnified image not good enough to make out any labels. Still, she didn't need to see what was written on the weapons to tell them by their shapes, a fairly recent introduction to the Metropolis police force. "LC-100s. LexCorp weaponry." Her teeth worked on her lower lip as she pondered the implications. It wasn't nearly enough to tie Lex to the company, but it was one more clue. "I wonder," she mused, fingers tapping on the driver's steering wheel. "I wonder, if I go back to those other offices and wait around long enough, will there be more men like these? What if every place is being patrolled by goons with Lex's guns?"

She wasn't sure the time investment was worth it. Then again, it was already late, and she had little to lose. As the guards sauntered around the corner of the warehouse facilities, plunging deeper into the darkness of the night, she unleashed the breath she'd held onto the entire time they'd been in sight. Assured that they were far enough away for her to make her escape, she twisted at the key in the ignition, the front headlights blasting to life as the engine roared. "Okay Chloe, just one more time. I know you're tired, but get this done, and it's one more clue for the case." She nodded, turning on the wheel as she hit the accelerator. As her car veered away, she whispered, softly, "Pulitzer. Pulitzer. Pulitzer."


	4. Chapter 4: Bats and Arrows

**Chapter Four**

_"Krypton was upon a new path. Their warships were, for the most part, converted into science vessels. No long would its people force its way of life upon others. It was enlightened thinking, though unfortunately, one that occurred long after they'd made enemies upon countless worlds. Though Krypton's scientific advancements were such that no single enemy could overcome them, the resistance of hundreds, or even thousands of worlds, could pose a threat that Krypton simply did not have the numbers to counter. Across its great civilization, the flames of war began to appear, at the exact time that Kryptonians were seeking to reduce their military force. It was an unfortunate kismet."_

_-Jor-El_

Oliver lay prone to the ground, watching from a distance as the guards strolled around to the rear of the delivery trucks, watching as warehouse workers unloaded the various materials. Though the lights from the building were flooding the grounds, the line of trucks provided some cover, and he silently moved forward, aiming for the front engine of the nearest vehicle. In a quick motion he sprang up the front of the truck and onto the roof of the cargo trailer. The goggles in his eyes did good work quickly scanning for an electrical sources along the roof that might identify a security camera, but the one external camera on the grounds was pointed downward at the warehouse entry, where the crew was moving about with crates. "That makes sense, got to keep an eye on the goods," he whispered, soft steps taking him quickly along the roof of the trailer, until he was near the short gap between it and the roof. He took a deep breath, clenching his fists slightly as he launched himself forward, his body landing against the roof. His hands locked onto its edges, fingers tightening their grip, every muscle in his arms straining as one as he hauled himself upward. Years of physical discipline were the only way to achieve that sort of ability.

His every step had been quiet, and to this point he'd remained out of sight of the goons below. His vision swept across the darkened rooftop, a set of air condition units chugging along, ventilating the building beneath his feet. Little else decorated the area, outside of a few lines of electric cables that crisscrossed the surface. Importantly, though, a single door sat toward the far end. Without another second of hesitation he sprinted across, coming face to face with the rooftop access. A quick scan revealed no electrical wiring that might set off any alarms, though a tug on the door handle was met only with resistance.

"Locked," he mumbled as his hand went to a satchel at his side. The rooftop access was the sort that was bolt locked from the inside, but Oliver had invested in enough tech over the years, and this was a relatively simple problem. He whipped out a small, gun like device that he pressed firmly to the edge of the door, where the bolt slid into the doorframe. With a squeeze of the trigger his hand recoiled back as an internal hammer slid out with such force that it forced the bolt forward, breaking the wood frame as the bolt cracked it. He hadn't need to break the bolt itself, just the frame around it, and the device he used was essentially a modified bolt pistol, the same types used for killing cattle. He'd just adapted it to breaking locks.

Wrapping his fingers inside of the broken wooden frame, he pulled gently, the door complying and swinging outward on its hinges. The interior of the rooftop access was a descending stairwell, and as he stared down the pit, he could make out doors emptying out onto different levels. Ground level was only about three stories down, and he quickly descended, eyes darting left and right. The HUD in his goggles persistently searched for electronic sources that might reveal hidden cameras or other surveillance devices, but found nothing, and so he made his way downward, confident that he'd remained incognito.

At the door, he pulled out a small device from inside his vest, essentially a lengthy electronic wire attached to a small pad. He placed it to the doorway, and with a press of a button, something like a radar pulse was emitted, passing through the door and into the hallway ahead. Ollie kept the miniature radar pressed to the door for a few minutes, and the pulses continued, essentially generating a map of the area beyond. In his goggles, he was able to see not only everything he would find once the door was open, but also maintain a small minimap in the corner of his goggles once he passed through.

"Doorway at the end of the hall. Hallway veering off to the right. No sign of any guards." He tucked the device back inside his vest. "I've really got to find some way of upgrading this so I don't need to keep untucking it out of my clothes."

He put the issue to the back of his mind as he passed through into the hallway. With the safety of knowing that there was nobody ahead, he quickly made his way to the hallway intersection. The end of the hallway to his right seemed like it was in the direction of the warehouse, but he was unsure. With little knowledge of the building's layout, he chanced it, scampering along until he reached the next doorway. As he did, he took notice of the building around him. Even for an office building, the hallway was unusually sparse. There were no pictures, no other offices. It was as if the hallway was sheer decoration, just placed there inside the building. It's what he would have imagined if he were seeing some sort of Hollywood movie set before it had been dolled up to look like reality.

"This is weird," he said as he settle to a kneeling position and the door, again fetching his radar out and placing it to its wooden surface. A few moments of holding it to the doorway were all that was required to tell him he was at the right place. The echolocation effect created the sense of a massive room beyond, the sort that could only be the warehouse, although it was so large the device couldn't capture all of its surface, though he knew for sure there was nobody near to the entry. They were all clustered around the trucks, he was sure.

Gently he put a hand to the door handle and turned the stop, softly pressing on the door so that it cracked just slightly open, allowing him the barest view inside. The doorway was tucked, fortunately, into the corner of the room, and a few stacks of crates, though low to the ground, provided just enough cover for him to slide out and quickly edge behind them, though he kept himself in a low position as he did. His body was squeezed fairly tightly between the crates on his right and the wall to his left, but he managed to inch forward just enough to get within earshot of the men that were hauling around materials from the trucks.

"Anyone know where we have to go next?" asked one as he stepped out from the interior of the cargo trailer, a small box in his hands. "How many stops do we have to make next."

"Well, we've got Intrepid Tech, Foger Tech and Livingston Futures to go, at least," replied another. "They're already waiting for us over at Intrepid so we've got to pick up the deliveries. I don't want to be driving around Star City when morning's coming around. Damn that's a depressing thought. Can't believe I thought this would be a good gig."

"Where'd they hire you out of?"

"Me? Metropolis. I did a few minor rounds with Intergang, nothing too spectacular. I was just a low level enforcer is all."

"I did similar work, except I was out of Gotham. Did a few stints working for Black Mask. Man, I didn't even know what I was getting into."

The first voice sighed, the sound of boxes being pushed around filling the air. "You know, I can't believe the good luck I had catching a break on the program. They cut my sentence time, and for what? Doing delivery rounds in Star City? I think I can handle that."

"Yeah, same here. When that guy, what was his name? Mr. White? When came to Blackgate to cut me a deal, I couldn't believe it. Guess there's someone looking down on me from up top. Of course it helps I never did anything like what some of the other guys in the pen were locked up for. I never murdered anyone or anything like that, for instance."

"Me neither. Don't think they'd have given me a shot in the rehab program if I had. I know a lot of guys weren't allowed into it because of that."

A third voice broke in. "Hey, are we seriously saying that all of us were hired out of the same program? I did my stint right here, in Star City. Same M.O., too. Couple of petty crimes, nothing too serious, and then this guy, Mr. White, shows up to spring me on the condition I run deliveries for him around town."

"Guess that's just what they do. Second chance for us, guys. I'm not complaining."

Oliver, his head pressed to the crate at his back, shook his head. The pieces were there, but they were difficult to wrap his head around. All of these guys were former criminals, even if they weren't especially violent ones, and all of them had been given a shot at a life in society just for making deliveries for tech companies around town. So, there was one common factor between all of them. The delivery company making the rounds between these defense contractors were all run by the same guy, someone named Mr. White, who ran a program rehabilitating ex convicts and putting them to work. Well, that was something to work with, at least. Of course, he wasn't sure it was the best idea to be buying Lex's weapons and putting them in the hands of guys that used to work with criminals like Black Mask, either. Something still wasn't right about all of this.

"Hey," a voice came from the back of the warehouse. "Did someone leave this door open?"

Ollie's eyes shot over to the back, though his view was obstructed by the stacks of crates. "Damn it," he whispered as he readied himself, getting into a crouching position, "Can't believe I didn't remember to close the door."

He could hear the footsteps as men walked past the crates he was tucked behind, just feet away from his position. As they moved one way, he moved the other, heading toward the warehouse dock, where the trucks were currently parked. Peeking just around the corner, he could see two men that lagged behind everyone else, hovering around the trailer entryway, their rifles raised and ready. There was no way he was going to try and bring any of these guys in, they weren't doing anything illegal, but he had to find out what was in the crates before he left.

One of the men grumbled. "We closed this door. Right?"

"Hell man," came another. "We never opened it. We don't go inside the offices."

"Think we got someone in here?"

The sounds of rifles being raised and powering up suddenly rang through the warehouse. "Damn, I knew this was too good to be true. I get yanked out of Gotham without ever seeing the Batman, now I'm here in Star City and I've got somebody else trailing me."

"Shut up. Look, if you've got a rifle, spread out. Everyone take a corner, if he's in here he's behind one of these crates."

Well they were right about that. Oliver didn't have time to worry about all this and, as much as he'd wanted to stay out of sight, realized he'd have to take immediate action. There were too many of them with incredibly dangerous weaponry, and he needed them dispatched in an instant. Reaching to his bag, he yanked out a small, round device. He pressed on a slider upon its face, a green light activating on it as it powered up. He counted down three seconds then tossed it upward and over his shoulder, launching it high into the air. For one second longer he waited. At five seconds, he went into action. Just as he was picking himself off the ground and launching himself over the crates, the device was reaching the height of its arc, its body becoming a light so intense it washed out all other illumination seeping down from the lamps upon the ceiling. Simultaneously the room filled with a noise so intense that it sent men falling to the ground in heaps of agony, each grasping at their skulls. A wildly tried firing their weaponry into the air, but were only met with empty _click clicks _as the guns refused to fire. It was something Oliver had been working in development on for a while, a sort of super souped up flashbang that doubled as a miniature EMP. Five years in the making and he was finally able to put it to use. His goggles, meanwhile, immediately adjusted to the intense light and dimmed just enough to let him see, while the small devices in his hear reduced the sound intensity so that he was able to move without any debilitating effects from the flashbang.

As he landed on his feet beyond the line of crates, he instantly drew out three arrows from his quiver, sliding them into position at his bow and firing them off. Each took a distinct path, rushing through the air and just barely grazing across the cheeks or arms of three separate targets that were clustered around the hallway door. Under any other circumstances that might seem like a miss, but Green Arrow was more than happy to see he'd hit his mark. The three men collapsed like unstable towers to the ground, arriving in slumps that piled upon one another, victims of a sedative that tipped the arrows he was using.

Still, distracted though they were, the men recovered in the moments after the light dimmed and sound returned to normal. Those at his back, now aware their rifles were little more than paper weights, charged forward, throwing their bodies headlong at Arrow. He responded with a swift motion, grabbing the arm of one and circling around while tossing his victim to the ground. The other quickly tried to turn about and grab at Arrow, who met him with such a powerful blow to the fact that the man was sent tumbling to the floor, his body coming to a rest alongside his compatriot's.

It took only a second for the half dozen men still left lingering around the rear of the warehouse to recover, moving toward arrow and encircling him, though it only made him smile. "I don't want any trouble, gentlemen," he said, holding his hands upward in a gesture of peace, his voice deepened and distorted by the digital modulator he used. "I actually don't think any of you are bad guys. Well, not terrible guys, anyway. I just need to take a peek at what you're shipping around."

For a moment the group hesitated, one looking to the other, each trying to determine what their next move should be. There was a long moment when Green Arrow thought they might actually back off and let him take a look. That was before the idiot who suddenly growled and threw himself forward, fist raised and ready to strike. Arrow deftly flicked his arm outward and grabbed the man by the arm, turning and launching him at one of his friends before he slid backward, his leg extended and crushing the abdomen of a nearby attacker. The man collapsed to the ground in a wail of pain as two others charged. Arrow dropped quickly, sliding his leg outward with a powerful kick that took out the man's knees before raising up with an uppercut delivered so perfectly, his victim was sent spiraling upward and back, stopping at a rest as he went unconscious. Quickly surveying the area, he noticed a single man still left, frozen in his tracks as he stared down the green hooded hero.

"Hey," Arrow said, gesturing toward the door. "My offer's still open."

The man looked at Ollie, then the door, then back again. Finally, a whimpering scream escaping his lips, he dashed away, plunging into the hallways of the Montoya offices. As he did, Oliver turned away with a chuckle, his feet taking him toward the nearest of the crates that had been unloaded. "See, now that would have been the smart decision your friends should have taken," he quipped as he reached out toward the top of the delivery. It was nailed shut, though that wasn't much trouble for him as he picked up a small crowbar lying on the ground. Jamming it beneath the lid of the crate, he jammed downward on it, forcing the lid up and sending nails flying toward the wall. "Whoops," he said with a grin as he ran his fingers under the lid and yanked upward, forcing it into the air. "So let's get a look at what Mr. White's moving around Star City."

As he hovered over the contents, hands sifting between various devices, parts and components, he couldn't help but frown. "All advanced stuff, could be put to use for a lot of different things. Still, they're being shipped to defense contractors, so it'd be safe to assume they're being used to develop weapons." He paused, thinking on the situation. "Weapons that they'd plausibly be able to say were being developed for government purposes, from contracts diverted away from Queen Industries and Wayne Enterprises." He took a step back, looking around the room. "Low level criminals hired from Metropolis, Gotham City and Star City. The only connection a Mr. White and the..." He paused a moment, looking toward the side of the truck sitting outside. "The Maximus Delivery Company. What the hell is going on here?"

* * *

"You need to let me know when you're coming to Gotham."

Lois shrugged, cocking an eyebrow as she did. "Excuse me. I didn't realize I needed to ask permission. Mind you, that's more than a little

patronizing."

The formidable looking man turned slightly, a simple glass of water in his hand, his black suit fit to his impressively developed form. "You and I both know I'm just looking out for you."

"Well thanks, Bruce, but I've sort of learned how to handle myself over the years. You know, between dealing with Lex Luthor, not to mention threats from outer space like General Zod and Darkseid. Unless you think the Penguin could take either one of those guys on?"

Bruce allowed himself only the faintest smile, but he was clearly amused. "Fair enough."

"I do appreciate you sending Alfred, of course. I mean, I was pretty sure when I booked my flight here, you'd find out."

"I try to keep on top of what happens in my city, especially when it involves the wife of the world's strongest man."

"Don't act like you don't like him."

"My issue with Clark isn't one of 'like'. We simply come from two different places, and have to handle things different ways."

"Which is why you've worked out so well when you've had to work together in the past."

He took a sip of his water before setting the cup down on the long dinner table they stood next to, the roaring fire in the hearth casting light all along the dining hall. "I suppose. Enough with the pleasantries, though."

"These were pleasantries?"

"You know what I mean. Why are you here, Lois?"

"Well, I'm working on a new case. Why else would I have come to Gotham after all?"

"Of course. How rare of the gods to descend into Hades."

"No offense Bruce, but Gotham's not exactly vacation central, and I'm not just talking about the weather. I know you're doing some good work out here, but it's still not a place where people feel safe after sundown, especially if you're not from around here."

The imposing man looked aside, eyes closing slightly as he stared into the fire. "I think I'm more aware than anyone of the problems Gotham's facing."

She regretted her words, and dared to take a step closer. "Hey look, I'm sorry, I know that. You know Clark would help you around here if you wanted it."

"Would he be able to change the Joker, Lois? Could he somehow get the Riddler to stop asking riddles? More than that, though. Let's not even talk about the super criminals. How would he be able to change every day mobsters, like Falcone, or Sal Maroni? Gotham isn't as bad as it is because of people like Joker, who paint their faces or put on masks. It's as bad as it is because there's a problem in its soul. Clark, as powerful as he might be, can't change that, and Gotham needs someone that's going to be here every day, not just when the next so-called supervillain gets it in his head to go on a killing spree." Bruce's face hardened, a frown growing across his lips. "This is besides the point. What's going on that you needed to come here?"

"I think you might have a hint of it already. Wayne Enterprises is getting squeezed on its defensive contracts. You were riding pretty high on those for a few years, but halfway into Lex's term as president and suddenly they start drying up? From what I've looked into, it's the same with Queen Industries."

Wayne nodded, his hand lifting up and resting on the top of a nearby chair. "Ah yes. You know, my company does pretty well under Lucius Fox. I'm aware of the money losses but we're so diversified, we'll be able to get by without the contracts."

"That's a lot of money loss, Bruce."

"So what's your point?"

"I'm just saying I think Lex is diverting the contracts to some of these smaller companies. I think they're dummy companies for LexCorp and I want to try and pin him on this. I don't want to see another four years of him in office."

"Lex Luthor is your problem, Lois, not mine. I've got a city that needs healing. I don't have time to worry about politics."

She cocked her head slightly, unable to repress her grin. "Really. That's why you've been making contributions to candidates and running ads throughout the country? I know that you're not going on tv to tell people who to vote for, but you're supporting candidates and issues through the states that go directly against Lex and his policies. Don't tell me you're not invested in the politics."

"Maybe." He shrugged, looking back to her. "You know you really were cut out to be a reporter."

"Thanks, I always had a knack for this."

"Then to answer your underlying question, yes, I've been pushing back against Lex with my money. I don't have a desire to get directly involved with politics again, but I felt it was time to fight his political power, not to mention his money, on somewhat equal times. Again though, Lucius is more directly involved with that than I am."

"But you had to sign off on the order. And it's your name on the company."

"Of course."

"So you don't think Lex is pushing back by trying to squeeze you on these contracts?"

"I know he is, I just don't have the evidence, and I don't have the time to invest into looking at his game. For what it's worth, though, Luthor's not just trying to get at Wayne Enterprises through our finances. The level of scrutiny he's been applying to our records, the level of oversight the Defense Department is suddenly engaging in, the financial reports and analysis being demanded from the I.R.S... it's all happening at once. You know the sort of tech I use. If I divert any funds to R&D that's suspicious, Luthor's going to become aware that we're not entirely above table on the financial reports, and I can't have him wondering where five hundred million dollars went to."

"A new Batwing, Bruce?"

He smiled. "We're thinking about just calling it The Bat. A little less ostentatious."

"Okay, so you're getting your finances squeezed and you're under such scrutiny you can't make many moves as the Batman. You're the world's greatest detective, what do you think is going on?"

He shook his head. "It's not that simple. I don't know that Lex is using dummy companies, the way you're suggesting, to move money out of Wayne Enterprises and back to LexCorp. I certainly don't know that this oversight is anything other than petty retaliation for our company's success in the defense field. There's simply not enough evidence."

"And it's nothing you want to pursue?"

"It's something I can't afford to pursue at the moment."

"Why's that?"

His eyes flicked toward the old grandfather clock that sat in the distant main hallway. "It's hard to explain, but you're a reporter, so you should understand. It's a hunch. Something's going on in Gotham, I just haven't been able to figure it out. You're of course familiar with the Joker."

"The loony with the nasty smile, yeah, I've read a story or ten."

"He's been missing for a long time. The Joker just doesn't go underground, he doesn't usually have the patience for it. He doesn't need long stretches of time for planning and even when he's bothering with something long term he's starting other fires in the meantime. It's been almost a year since he went missing from Arkham, and I'm having a hard time understanding why he's been quiet. Still, recently, I've been feeling... something. You know what I'm referring to."

"I do."

"He's about to move, I can feel it. For now, I have to focus on what he's doing, and put everything else aside. If not, the consequences for Gotham could be incredible. There's no way he stays underground this long unless he's planning something truly catastrophic."

She shook her head, fingers running to her hair and pushing it from her eyes. "I got it Bruce. You've got a city to protect. Do you at least want me to keep you up to date if I find anything out about LexCorp?"

"Of course I'd appreciate that."

"Will do," she said as she began to take a step away, but was halted as he thrust an open hand toward her.

"Wait."

Lois glanced at him, curious. "Something wrong?"

His frown deepened as he looked at her. "I know I don't have to tell you this, but be careful with Luthor. He's brilliant. I can't overstate to you the level of knowledge he possesses, or his ability to plan. He may not be able to go toe to toe with Clark like Zod, and he might not go around gassing people to death like Joker, but he's got a way of operating all his own. He's a genius. Don't underestimate him."

She shook her head, suddenly more nervous than she had been her entire time in Gotham. "Yeah, of course. I'll try and play it safe."


	5. Chapter 5: Somebody Save Me

**Chapter Five**

_"They came like a flood, destroying the outer colonies, cutting off star systems from contact with Krypton, destroying trade routes, and cutting off the Kryptonians from the resources they needed from other star systems in order to power their great vessels and technologies. Isolated, panicked, the Science Council weighed their options but could come to no solid conclusions. For you see, long before, at the height of Krypton's military conquests, they had come to find that the core of their planet possessed unique energetic properties, to be found nowhere else in the Universe. They'd at first tapped into this source, devising a way to harness its great energies but aware that tapping it would bring great risk. This is why, even in their hour of dire need, they were hesitant to use it. Besides, even fully powered, there were not enough vessels in the Kryptonian fleet to combat the numerous races descending upon Krypton."_

_-Jor-El_

Clark Kent adjusted his glasses, eyeing the doorway before him as he sat patiently in the waiting room at Miles Agriculture and Farming. He'd arranged to meet with them that afternoon, and had been pleasantly surprised to find that their president, Joseph Miles, would be more than willing to meet with a member of the press to discuss the company's recent actions around Smallville. When he'd arrived, Clark had been surprised to find the building little more than a nondescript office complex situated halfway between Smallville and Metropolis. A convenient meeting point between the two locations, enabling their company to handle the big company affairs of the big city while directly overseeing their agriculture investments in Smallville. Employees didn't particularly like the commute, but they sure enjoyed the financial compensation they were given for taken a job at Montoya.

"Mr. Kent?" a cheerful looking young woman asked from the reception desk. "Are you ready?"

Clark got to his feet, adjusting his tie as he did. "Of course. I'm surprised it was this quick, I'd have thought the wait would be longer."

"Well, Mr. Miles is very polite. He hates keeping people waiting. Anyway, he'll see you now."

Clark nodded, moving toward the rich red doors and pressing lightly upon them, his feet carrying him into a surprisingly subdued office. A glass desk sat before him, with two vertical windows running from ground to roof on either side. A bookshelf lined with all sorts of books sat to his right, and a quick scan of them revealed everything from _Moby Dick _to the Bible , _Mein Kampf _ and _On the Origin of Species. _

"Mr. Kent," a pleasant voice asked from the desk. A lean, angular man stood to his feet, a black beard streaked with grey running from his face, and slightly long hair curling just beneath his ears. Clark hesitated for a second in surprise as he came face to face with the man. For a moment, it looked like Lionel.

"Mr. Miles, so happy you could make time for me on such short notice," he said, reaching out a hand. The two men exchanged a firm grip.

"I always enjoy meeting with members of the press, Mr. Kent, especially considering that not all of our actions are always seen as benevolent." He motioned to a chair before the desk, which Clark took, while Montoya maneuvered back to his regal seat near the wall. "So just to be clear, is this for a piece you're doing at the Daily Planet? You don't have the reputation of, say, a Lois Lane, but I am familiar with your work. Solid stuff, if once in a while somewhat trite. I'm not sure how you go between hard hitting political pieces one day to stories about neighborhood barbeques the next."

"Well you know, people aren't always interested in reading about politics. Sometimes you just like to read about the best in humanity."

"Ah, now isn't that true," he replied with a raise of his finger. "It's so easy to look for the worst in one another instead of understanding how complex each of us is. A mixture, full of potential, to do either the best worst deeds imaginable. And politics is easily the arena where the worst is done while trying to appear the best."

Clark smirked. "Funny, Mr. Miles, considering some could say the same about actions in the business sector. That includes your work around Smallville."

"Should I consider this the beginning of our interview, Mr. Kent?"

"I think that would be a safe bet," he said as he removed a pocket recorder, switching it on as he placed it on the desk.

"Well then, let me go on record to defend Miles Agriculture. I know not all of the farmers around here are exactly happy with what we're doing, but let me be the first to say, everything we've done is completely in bounds with the law. We're allowed to sell a good product at a good price."

"I think most people would agree that you're allowed to do that, Mr. Miles. In fact I don't think anyone would argue against it. Making a profit is sort of the American way. Making a good product is, too. I think people are getting upset because they're basically forced to use your product, and go bankrupt doing it. They can't carry seeds over to the next season because the law says you can sue them if they do. The plants they grow are immune to only the pesticide you sell, and meanwhile, almost all other types of pesticides have been illegalized. That's not just selling a good product, that's forcing a product on people. The worst part though, Mr. Miles? Once a farmer's gotten desperate enough, he has to sell off his land, and who buys it? Miles Agriculture, of course. Not to mention you've gone around snatching up all the old plots that used to belong to Luthor Corp. It's like you're trying to make a monopoly out of farming out in Smallville, and it's putting a lot of farmers out of business."

Miles smiled, nodding, his hand sliding onto the table. "When you put it that way Mr. Kent, it sounds so dastardly. Let's be honest though, Mr. Kent. There are people out there that would be angry at Miles Ag no matter what we did. If we decided to pull out of the farming business, what then? We go bankrupt, and all those plots go to waste. Jobs get lost, and Smallville turns into a slum because, even if we own the plots now, at least we can employ people on them. This is an era of big business, plain and simple. It's the same reason that you have big name companies putting mom and pop stores out of business in the cities. Same phenomenon, but we also put people to work." His hand raised upward, gesturing to the windows behind him. "Besides, look at all that land. There's so much unworked, and a small town farmer doesn't have the economic ability or planning capacity to work it all. It takes big planning from a big group like Miles. Small farmers can't bring enough to market to meet the needs of a country like the United States, let alone the world, which is what we're aiming for. Companies like mine are able to meet very real survival needs of millions and, potentially, billions."

"Sure though Mr. Miles, there's a compromise between business profits and running farmers off their land, some of whose families have been working those fields for generations?"

"What would you suggest is the solution?"

"You don't have to run these people off their farms, Mr. Miles. Surely you can come to an arrangement where they supply the crops. If you're serious about putting people to work, why not just let them work their lands, bring the crops to harvest, and let you take a part of the sale? If they organized together, planned their harvests, they could bring different crops in enough numbers that you'd be able to meet your quotas."

"Like a cooperative effort, on their part." A doubtful look crossed his face as he mulled it over. "I see what you're saying Mr. Kent, but the stockholders like certainty. They want to know, without doubt, that what Miles Agriculture brings to market is a quality, uniform product. When things are directly under our control, we can manage that. If we let farmers stay on their fields, we'd still have to be hiring inspectors out there to ensure the product, and that's just redundant."

"So it really does boil down to your stock value?"

"It boils down to making a sale, which I've said from the start. There's nothing wrong with that. Besides, how many independent farmers are really still making a living out in Smallville?"

Clark swallowed hard, trying to repress any sound of anger in his voice. "My father and mother make at least one family that are being directly affected by your policies."

Miles hesitated, unable to find words for a moment as he processed the statement. "I... see. You weren't completely honest with me, Mr. Kent. Is this some sort of hit piece you're planning?"

"Of course not Mr. Miles. I just want the truth about your intentions and why you're expanding so aggressively around Metropolis. If it's just about money, well, then it's just about money. I'll let my readers decide what they think about that."

"Come now Mr. Kent. Don't be so personally offended. I haven't been dishonest and, as I said from the start, I put out a good product at a good price. Considering the recent state of the U.S. economy and how many people have struggled to get back on their feet, I think most people will be able to appreciate that. After all, if you're looking for a job, Miles's hiring. If you're looking for quality food at low prices, Miles's selling. Who would be opposed to that?"

Clark got to his feet, snatching the recorder off the table as he did. "I think I've got enough information for my piece, Mr. Miles," he said tersely as he began to step around the chair, angling toward the doorway.

"Mr. Kent. I expect a fair assessment of my position in your piece. I gave you the courtesy of a professional interview. I expect the courtesy of a professional piece of writing."

"You'll get it. Thank you for your time, sir," he said with finality, turning about and streaking back to the doors, thrusting them open with just slightly more force than he'd intended. The receptionist turned a smile at him as he walked past, but he didn't see it, let alone return it, as he shot down the hallway, feet quickly taking him back toward the exit and his awaiting vehicle.

"I don't think the public's going to be happy with the wages you pay," he grumbled as he walked past the windows that lined the main corridor at Miles Agriculture. "And I don't think they'll be happy to hear you're willing to put so many people out of their livings just to push up your stock value."

Eyes locked on the approaching exit, all the world suddenly come to a stop as a rush of noise suddenly filled his ears, his senses kicking into overdrive as a sudden burst from Metropolis' direction caught his attention.

_"All units, all units, be advised," _said the voice, _"We've got Toyman going on a rampage in downtown Metropolis."_

Clark's only thought as he began to rush forward was that he had to get in his car, get far away enough from the Miles Ag that he could leave it on the side of the road, then get to Metropolis without hesitation. Toyman himself wasn't an altogether intimidating figure, but the creations he devised had grown increasingly intricate and deadly over the years, and for him to stage a full on raid in Metropolis meant he must be packing something truly powerful. As he slid into the driver's seat of his car and roared away from the complex, which steadily faded into the distance as he drove on, he was already readying himself to leap out and jump into the large waves of amber grain that would hide him. Even though he could move at super speed he'd learned to never take chances. He'd be in Metropolis within seconds, anyway.

Then as he took his first steps out of the car, another sudden burst of noise and panicked words filled his head. _"Emergency, Metropolis we need assistance! Retribution has been sighted on Main Street, Smallville, and he's tearing through everything he sees. We don't know how to handle something like this, please respond!" _

It was the only thing that could have made him think twice about saving Metropolis. Tim Westcott, now known as Retribution, had been a morality fixated youth during Clark's high school years in Smallville. They'd been able to put a stop to him years ago, but Tim's ability to morph into sand particles made him a difficult one to catch, let alone keep captured. Over the years he'd become a self loathing, hateful man who despised all non humans, and to a large degree that included himself. He thought of all non humans as some form of corruption of humanity's traditional place in the universe, and felt they were all morally corrupt because of that. Still, he thought it was his mission to rid the world of anyone that supported meta and superhumans. He'd popped up sporadically through the years, was wily, and had grown increasingly powerful as he'd learned to increase his body mass over time. A punch from Westcott these days felt like getting hit by a small mountain at high velocity. It was a part of his past Clark was ashamed of, one more person he'd never been able to save, but right now he had a decision to make. Metropolis, and Toyman, or Smallville and Retribution. As much as he loved Metropolis, his mind flashed to his parents, and his decision was made.

With a burst of speed he emerged a half mile away from where he'd entered the wheat field, flying upward, his body encased in the blue and red uniform that had come to symbolize him through the years. At one time he'd been known simply as the red and blue blur, then the blue blur because people like short titles. Now he was off to face an enemy he'd known long before he'd realized what his destiny was, before he even knew the sort of ally that Jor-El would become.

Superman's speed was incredible and no less than his computational abilities. He already knew, in his mind, what he had to do, physically, to stop Retribution. He knew how long it would take him to get back to Metropolis. Now it just came down to putting it altogether. As he sped along through the skies, rocketing toward his hometown, his telescopic vision extended outward to the streets where he'd grown up. From miles away he could see Main Street being torn apart as Retribution ripped his hand upward, tearing through a nearby rooftop, his stretching and growing like a wave as it rippled with grains of sand, taking on such size that it slapped nearly a quarter of the roof off. Wood and rooftop went flying into the air and, seeing the danger it would pose as it came crashing back down to earth, Superman increased his speed tenfold. Within seconds he shot over the skies of Smallville, so fast that those below only briefly caught sight of him before he'd snatched up the larger pieces of roofing, swooping downward to the ground, stopping on a dime and tossing the materials to the ground before almost instantly crossing back toward Main Street.

The earth shook as his speed carried him through the center of town, a loud, thundering roar erupting as he came to an immediate halt, settling onto the ground in front of his old foe. Retribution looked up, his body in normal form little more than a slight frame enveloped by a green cargo jacket and overly sized pants.

"Retribution," Superman said softly, eyeing the young man. "We've been through this before."

"I'm aware, Superman," the villain replied, looking upward beneath the bangs of hair that streaked down over his eyes. "And I haven't changed my mind about you, or your kind."

"You still think we corrupt mankind, somehow."

"How can't you see it?" he demanded, growling, his facial features trembling for a second in violent waves as the granular sands rippled along the contours of his cheekbones, his hands shimmering for a second as they changed just slightly. "How can mankind be anything worth respecting while you're around, Superman? While anyone like us is around?"

"For years, I've wanted nothing more than people to be their best. I agree, there's room for a world without Superman. That's the best world I can imagine. But do you really think I can sit on the sidelines while you tear apart Smallville? Tim, this was your home. There were people who tried to care about you and you... you..." Superman sucked in a deep breath, though he released it carefully. "You know what you did. The people you've killed." He couldn't say it out loud, for fear of tying himself to those days, long ago, when he'd known Alicia Baker. Maybe his second love, after Lana Lang, Alicia had been killed during Tim's first crusade, when he'd tried to frame her for murders occurring across Smallville. For that reason, among many others, it was always difficult to control himself around Tim. "We don't have to do this again. Right now, there's a madman trying to rip into downtown Metropolis. You can either turn yourself in, and let me save lives. Or, we can do this..." He gestured outward, between the two of them. "And while we're fighting, people die."

"In Metropolis, Superman? What good person ever came out of a city like that?"

_"My mother"_, he thought, but held it back. "Alright then. I gave you a fair shot."

"I won't return the favor!" Retribution screamed, lashing his hand outward with a thrust of incredible speed, the gap between the two men crossed almost instantly. Superman found himself being driven backward by a unrelenting wave of sand that felt like hammers beating relentlessly into his chest, the granules spilling upward and seeping into his mouth and nostrils. Unable to breath for a moment and caught in Tim's sand wave, he forced himself skyward, speeding out of the blast and into the heavens. Within a moment he'd arced back downwards, streaking at Retribution's position. At the moment his fist was near contact, though, they young man's form vanished in a vortex of sand that spouted upward, blasting Superman in the back and catapulting him into the skies. Carried along against his will, again he was forced to fly out from the sand wave, looping downward to the base of the sand vortex. It always came down to this, and he always hated doing it, but it was the only way to force Tim out of his sand form. So, eyes ignited with ruby red energy, he unleashed a torrential blast of heat vision that cut across the wave of sand, glassing a portion of it instantly. An almost ethereal scream seemed to erupt from the sand wave as it collapsed back to earth, glass particles shattering while waves of sand spilt along the ground, slowly winding their way back together into a human form that whimpered along the ground.

Superman zipped toward the concrete surface. He'd learned, long ago, that Tim's ability to resist heat blasts meant no permanent damage had been done. It just hurt tremendously. Still, with Toyman loose in Metropolis, he didn't have time for surgical care here. He quickly caught Retribution by the collar and rocketed toward a nearby car, tossing him inside before liberally searing the every crack and crevice on the vehicle shut with his heat vision. He didn't need a permanent prison for Tim, just one that would hold long enough for Metrpolis' metahuman division to pick him up. He felt guilty about ruining the car, though.

He spotted a patron at the door of a nearby store who'd only now stumbled outside. "You!" he said, pointing directly at the woman, who seemed stunned to be spoken to by Superman. "Tell whoever own this that I'll fix this later. Scout's honor."

The woman just shook her head, speechless, as Clark suddenly shot upward and away, streaming toward his adopted home of Metropolis. What were the chances of two simultaneous crisis like this?

As he roared in between the towering spires of the city, he could already hear the cries coming out from downtown, nestled between the gleaming towers that made up Metropolis. Normally a place where businessmen and women came for their lunch at this hour, enjoying small conversation and the live music that played daily, all he could hear now was the sound of screams and gunfire. Lots, and lots, of gunfire. He didn't particularly fear either Toyman or Retribution, but the harm they could do to innocents demanded that he act quickly. Glass shook and reverberated as he pierced the sound barrier, swooping over the streets and quickly coming down on the scene.

In an instant he'd taken it all in. At every street corner the metahuman division had set themselves up, wielding those new LX-100s that Luthor was always so proud of saying he'd given away. Nevermind the fact that Lex had been, at one time or another, responsible for 30% of the superhuman crime in the city somehow. The energy blasts were effective, though, he had to give them that. Toyman was situated in a ridiculous looking exoskeleton that looked almost like a wind-up toy robot. Clark had never fully gotten him. The Toyman, also known as Winslow Schott, was a genius level robotocist, almost as good as Luthor, but with the odd quirk that almost everything he created had to mimic a toy. He wasn't the only threat, though. Over the years he'd begun to deploy a number of cyborg 'toys' that were lethal, not only to humans but to Superman as well. These were creations that blasted low level energy blasts whose energy signature mimicked Kryptonite. it wasn't nearly as powerful effect as the real thing, but get struck enough times and it was game over.

"Ah, the centerpiece is here!" declared the Toyman, glancing upward at the familiar red and blue figure. All around him his small army of a dozen toy cyborgs were firing energy blasts from their wrists, soaking up the return fire and expanding outward. In moments, the Metropolis police force would have to fall back. "Alright my darlings, you hold off the pawns, I've got the king to play." With a grin he thrust his arm upward, a gatling-like device on the end whirring to life as it fired off hundreds of rounds of glowing green energy. Superman angled away, quickly moving groundward before cutting back toward the Toyman. Schott grimaced, an explosive burst of flames suddenly erupting from his back as he went skyward, narrowly avoiding Superman as he moved into the skies. "Help me darlings!" he screamed, unable to turn the cumbersome suit, a design flaw of making it look so much like a box robot. Superman had no time to pursue, though, as he was suddenly caught in the crossfire of a dozen cyborgs all firing at once toward him. His body went high, higher than Toyman before he cut back toward his target, veering through a steady stream of energy blasts that seared at his skin and tore through his cape.

For a moment Toyman was able to level out, facing toward Superman and arm outstretched, his gatling arm whirring to life as it spit out another volley. This time, though, Clark did not hesitate. Cutting off his direction just before he was shot, he circled behind Toyman in a near instant, eyes igniting and firing in a concentrated burst of ruby blasts that sliced through the rear jetpack device Schott was using to stay airbound. It detonated with a force that sent him and his exoskeleton flying forward, a panicked scream erupting from his lips as he went barreling headlong toward the ground, arms flailing as he desperately swiped at the air. For just a moment, Clark smirked at the sight of a life sized toy robot, a man encased inside, as it plummeted toward earth. He had to take joy in his job once in a while. Still, he had no desire to hurt Toyman, per se. He zipped forward, catching him by the gatling arm, which he stripped from the exoskeleton without so much as a thought, leaving the villain's arm exposed. Superman held tightly to it, moving toward the skies, elevating high beyond the skyscrapers of Metropolis.

"Shut off your robots, Schott!" he said calmly, looking down into the defeated man's eyes. The poor guy's glasses were fogging up as they approached colder climates.

"They're off, they're off!" Toyman screamed, almost crying down, his voice shaking with every response. "Please take me back down! I'm sorry, so sorry!"

"I don't think you are, otherwise we wouldn't be doing this again." Slowly he began to descend, the rooftops of the city passing by as Superman lowered his enemy back to earth. "I know you don't realize this, but I really wish we didn't have to keep repeating this pattern. I don't want to be your enemy. With your intellect, you could make some really valuable contributions to society. Can you imagine what our astronauts could do with an exoskeleton like this? How it would help them?"

Toyman was so out of it he couldn't even respond, but in the past, anytime Clark had tried to convince him to go straight, it hadn't worked. If there was a better way of handling these situations, he hadn't learned it yet. What he did know was that lives had been saved. As they approached ground once again, he found a crowd had already gathered. The Metropolis metahuman division was rounding up the robots, stuffing them into specially designed transports that could resist incredible punishment and firepower. The sort of thing you put a superhuman in.

More importantly were all the people that were gathering about, filling the air with applause. In their business suits, their ties on, some with suitpants, others with skirts, a few with hats, others with vests, they gathered, hollering and shouting with joy as Superman finally touched back onto earth, lowering the Toyman to the ground. His eyes scanned the suit quickly, finding its energy core, and within an instant he'd buried his hand into the chestplate of the suit, ripping from it the matrix that powered it and clenching his fist around it as it detonated. He thought he might have felt a twinge, but nothing more.

As he glanced around, seeing their smiling faces, their joy, he gave them all a smile and a wave of his hand. "All in a day's work," he said, nodding humbly. "Pass it on guys. The best thing you can do is to help one another."

_"You rock Superman!"_

_"You're my hero!"_

_"Way to go Supes!"_

Clark blushed as he began to elevate, giving them a final wave as he disappeared into the sunlight. He was never quite sure of what to do with all the praise. Honestly, he was just glad they were okay.

* * *

Somewhere in the U.S., a single man watched the screen before him, watching as tv news crews recorded Superman as he rocketed upward into the skies. Then, in a voice that reverberated with dread, he asked a simple question:

"Why did Superman go to Smallville first?"

* * *

_Editing Note: A previous version of this referred to Mr. Miles as Mr. Montoya. Goof up that's entirely my fault. _


	6. Chapter 6: Darkness Gathers

**Chapter 6**

_"There was a device, the Quantum Core, developed by the great scientists of Krypton. Capable of tapping the unique energies of Krypton's core to either constructive or destructive ends, it had gone unused from its creation. Enraged at the hesitancy of the council to authorize it to any purpose, even in their hour of need, General Zod and his military wing took command of the Quantum Core from its control tower beneath the surface of the planet. Activating it, he chose to use it not to power their starships in a defensive battle, and made no effort to negotiate with the encroaching species, but instead unleashed its power in a singular, powerful wave that spread out from Krypton. It was an anti-life wave that spread throughout the sector, reaching millions of lights years into space. As it rippled through the stars, warriors and civilians alike withered, then died. Plants shriveled away, stars blinked out of existence, and the only system left alive in for untold distances was that of Krypton. At the price of their souls, Kryptonians had defeated their enemies."_

_- Jor-El_

Chloe stared at her husband who, his mouth chewing on a piece of French Toast, seemed entirely oblivious to the world. The fork in his hand scraped at the plate in front of him, gathering up the remnants of scrambled egg in a final scoop that he brought to his lips, savoring the taste as he wrapped up his breakfast. With his meal concluded, he glanced up, flashing that goofy smile of his. "Thanks babe," he said, pushing out from the table and stretching his arms outward. "Always starving the day after I have to fight."

"Which is, like, almost every day. That's how I get stuck making you scrambled eggs and French Toast for breakfast almost every week."

"Hey, now, I know it's not your favorite thing to do, but in my defense, I do make dinner."

"True." She returned his smile with one of her own, enjoying her rapport as much that day as she had when they'd met, years before. "So are you ready to talk about last night?"

"Well, to be honest, I'm not sure how much I've got to go on that's really firm. You know? I picked up a few clues, but there's a lot of digging left to be done."

"Uh okay, but at this point you're on the hook to tell me. Between the two of us, we both know who's better at a computer."

"I know, I know," he said, holding his hands up in surrender. "Well, I'll certainly say this about Montoya. Whoever this guy is, he's got interesting hiring habits, from what I was able to pick up, not to mention terrible decorations for his office building."

Chloe shook her head, grinning. "Okay, well besides his bad taste in flowers, what did you find?"

He leaned away, shrugging. "I don't know how much of a payoff this is going to be, but from what I could tell, it looks like Montoya is being supplied with similar parts that are being sent to other tech companies around town. I wanted to run a few names by you actually, to see if they were on your list."

"I think I can do that," she replied as she scooped her tablet from her purse, activating it and opening the spread sheet she'd kept the list of names on. "What are they?"

"Intrepid Tech, Foger Tech, and Livingston Futures."

Chloe shook her head, acknowledging the list as she scanned through the columns in the spreadsheet. "Yeah, all three of them are listed here on the list Lois sent me. I don't get it though. Why would a private defense contractor be sharing identical parts with its competitors in the city? That would undermine their profit margins."

"Unless they're all working together behind the scenes," Oliver noted, wearing a smug smile of his. "Why, I don't know. Is it to funnel all the profits to a bigger company? Maybe. Considering the tech, they could each put together some serious weaponry, though. That'd be a lot of companies all over town with the ability to create some cutting edge firepower."

"That makes sense. When I scouted around last night, every place that I visited had armed guards outside, but they were all packing LX-100s. LexCorp weaponry. Did you find the same at Montoya?"

"Sure did. But here's the real kicker," he said, holding up a finger. "Would it surprise you to learn that all of the guys working the warehouse and security last night are ex cons? From what I picked up, they're from all over. Here in Star City, over in Metropolis and even Gotham."

"The same three cities Lois is investigating so much right now."

"Got to be more than a coincidence."

"So both the guys working at the warehouses for these companies, the security patrolling the grounds, and the guys making deliveries are all former criminals?"

Ollie shrugged. "I mean, I can't say for sure without asking every one of them, but that's what it looks like right now."

"That's a lot of guys with shady pasts working close to powerful weapons," she replied, teeth biting down softly into her lower lip. "I wonder if this same scheme is going on around Metropolis and Gotham."

"Well, I've got one more bit of information I was able to pick up that might interest you."

"More?" she shook her head in disbelief. "Sounds like you had a way more productive night than I did. What else?"

I don't know if all these contractors are tired to LexCorp, but I do know they're tied to a delivery company called the Maximus Delivery Company. They do all the delivery rounds to these companies, hire from the same group as the tech companies do, are apparently run by a guy named Mr. White. Now, whoever this guy is, he pulls these guys working the warehouses himself. Goes prison to prison here, in Metropolis and in Gotham, hiring these guys as part of a rehabilitation program. Then he employs them, as part of the delivery company that he owns. They also go on to work at the offices of these contractors."

"So it sounds like whatever tie these companies have is really through this Mr. White. Maybe we're not dealing with Lex at all?"

"Or maybe we're dealing with Lex using a pseudo name. I don't know, but I do think it's time for you to unleash that genius brain of yours. All the footwork in the world isn't going to produce the same results as you hitting that computer of yours, tracking where Maximus operates out of, and who this Mr. White guy is."

Chloe nodded, glancing over her shoulder to the computer sitting in their living room. "You know, just for once, I thought I'd get to do some work off of the net. Be a real gumshoe detective, like that one guy. What's his name? The Question?"

Ollie scowled, shaking his head. "No, just Question, and nah you don't want to be like him, guy's a weirdo. Real conspiracy nut."

Her eyes narrowed, mouth slightly gaping. "And... you don't think we could use something like that on a case like this?"

"No, seriously, I'm telling you. Before you know it this case won't be about Lex, it'll be about some weird alien race posing as heroes, villains and politicians in some weird years long plot that doesn't make any sense. Reason enough to avoid Question."

* * *

Lois' face grew larger in Clark's computer screen as she leaned into the camera on her end, the signal slightly delayed and the voice occasionally going out of sync. He'd rather have just flown to see her, but he had enough to take care around Smallville and Metropolis for the moment. Also, Bruce would hate it if she showed up unannounced, and he hated getting him grouchy. Or at least grouchier than he was on any normal day.

She pulled a strawberry from a bowl at her side, nibbling on an end of it as propped herself up on a pillow against the headboard of her bed. "So this Miles guys isn't some new Lex Luthor, just a really, really greedy businessman. Well, that's at least half of Lex, not to mention Lionel. Next thing you know he'll be sending super powered plants your way hoping to kill you with oversized thorns."

Clark smiled, shaking his head. "I think that's more likely to happen to you considering you're in Gotham. From what I've heard, Poison Ivy is one of the few criminals that Batman has to deal with on a regular basis that has what you'd normally consider superpowers." It always sounded strange to refer to Bruce as Batman. He knew the man, had known him for years now, and they had no problem talking about each other in familiar terms. Over unsecured phone lines and internet connections, though, there were rules. No speaking about each other's secrets, no giving away too much in a conversation, and definitely not using each other's real names. It would take just one bad day, when an enemy was trying to listen in, to give away their identities, something they guarded over almost all other things.

"So what's your next move, Smallville? Are you going to stick with Miles or look into some of these companies on the list?"

"I'm going to go ahead and look into the companies like we talked about. There's not much I can really do about Miles for the moment, so I'll put my attention elsewhere. Besides, with you in Gotham, I'd rather get my end of the work done as soon as possible. Just in case."

She cocked an eyebrow at him, frowning. "Just in case what, Clark?"

"Gotham's... just not the safest place, Lois. I'd feel better if I was around."

"I'm not a little girl. I swear, you and your counterpart out here think more alike than you're even aware of."

"Fair enough," he said, grinning. "Well, what have you uncovered?"

"Only been out here a day and I can already tell you all these companies are being supplied by the same company. Problem is, whoever the guy is that's running the deliveries is a real mystery. I haven't been working on it very long, but what little I have hasn't been helping much."

"What's his first name?"

"Jack White. This delivery company of his is relatively new, too, just like all these tech companies. I know we're on the right trail, I just need to get to the bottom of who this Mr. White is. That'll open up a whole new phase of the investigation." Her eyes were growing wide, a smile spreading across her face as she spoke. "Sorry Clark, think I'm getting a little too excited about this right now."

"You think I mind?" he asked, enjoying her excitement. "I didn't marry you because you liked sitting around the house all day."

"Darn right I don't." She sighed, hands sliding forward, moving across the keyboard of her laptop. "Anyway, I've got to go. Need to keep following up on this."

"Yeah, and I need to get to work on my half of the list."

"Okay. Love you."

Just the words made him grin. "Love you too," he replied, nodding to her a final time as her hands reached up and closed the laptop, his screen growing black as it did. "Well," he began to say to himself, "If these companies turn out to be tied to the same delivery company, we'll really know there's something up." He glanced aside to his feet, dropping a hand downward and rubbing it through Shelby's gentle fur coat, the dog's tail thumping as he did. "Okay boy, you take care of mom and dad while I'm gone. No going back to your kryptonite super powers," he joked as he got to his feet, moving toward the door. With a sigh he glanced out his car, realizing he'd have to drive it, just for appearance's sake. Flying was so much more fun.

* * *

"Any of you guys heard about that new company? Maximus? They've been hiring cons straight out of Blackgate, putting them to work on a decent salary. Sounds like a sweet gig."

There was a series of return grunts, men and women both, each responding positively to the mention of the name. They huddled around a trash can that blazed with a fire from inside, like a mouth to hell, while they clung to their jackets and pulled them tightly around their bodies. A few wore hats, and almost all had their pants patched and sewn beyond recognition. Streaks of dirt or ash sat across their faces, while grimy hands tucked into their pockets or held onto their collars.

"I've been hearing certain things," said one voice around the fire, its wielder a skinny, weak looking man with a raven beaked nose. "Like they don't hire off the street, no matter what you try and do. So they're more likely to hire you if you're still in jail, than if you do your time and get out of it! What a load of bull."

As the argument raged on, one particular individual walked up among them, one of the most frequent members of their group. An ex soldier, suffering post traumatic stress disorder and barely able to hold down a job, Flophouse Jack was known among them as one of their friendliest and most welcoming members. Sure he would vanish for months at a time, and they all got worried about him, but Jack was an ace, the sort of guy you enjoyed spending long times having discussions with.

"Been sort of looking for a job," he mumbled, peering out from beneath his newsies styles hat, reminiscent of a bygone era that dated back to the 1950s. "Things are rough, you know?" His accent rang of Boston, his smell of the streets, but everyone knew the smile of Flophouse Jack. 'I don't suppose this Maximus has been making any exceptions?"

"Well, a few," shot back a voice from around the crowded trash can. "I've heard they're starting to prowl the streets. They're not looking for anyone with too hard a record, though. Not that you've done anything too bad, Jack. I mean, besides a couple of lifts from the stores around here."

"I try to keep my nose as clean as it can possible get," Jack said with a flimsy grin, looking around the fire. "So you think there's a chance I can get a cut on this?"

"Sure," said another voice. "Heard the rehab program is run by a guy named Jack White. Real nice guy, goes around the big cities, looking for the sort of guys that haven't done too much hard time and giving them a second chance in the warehouses. You might want to give it a look, Jack."

"Yeah, thanks Moses," he said with a wink of his eyes, taking a step away from the lit trashcan. "Well hey, think I'll take a peek around town, since what I can dig up and maybe get in on this action. Never hurts to have a few extra dollars in the pocket." They all smiled and nodded, wishing him luck as he stepped away, back into the darkness of the alleyway, fading into the night. Once he was far enough away, he brought a hand up to his ear, a finger tapping at the small device lodged in just within his ear canal. "Alfred? Have you been listening in on this?"

_"Oh dear, Master Bruce," _came back the voice, the sound of his long faithful servant, Alfred. _"It seems you were right. This is the work of the Joker after all." _To anyone outside of the know, the name Jack White might seem like one more innocent name among many that existed within Gotham. However, Batman had come to know the Joker by many names, and one of his most frequent aliases had been Jack White. During one of his most recent stints in Arkham Asylum he'd used that name to manipulate a young scientist as she delved into the secrets of the chemical compound known as Venom, a substance that was capable of increasing a normal human's physical abilities to superhuman levels. She hadn't been aware that it was the Joker funding her until far too late, and the entire island was consumed in his insanity, the toxin delivered and spread among his henchmen as he'd sought to bring the facility under his control. In the end, Batman had barely been able to bring the Joker down after he'd doused himself with the stuff, gaining inhuman strength, but in the aftermath Joker had been left weak and near death. That was around the time he'd gone underground, disappearing from the crime scene. Batman wasn't surprised to see that he was rearing his head now.

"This is an unusually long con for him," Bruce continued as he wiped the makeup form his face, his hand reaching up to snatch the cap off his head and tucking it into his trench coat. "Joker likes to play, but he's usually got a quick game in between his long ones. I've never known him to sit out of the action this long."

_"Nevertheless, it seems he's intent on playing a long game this time."_

"So it seems, on the surface. I'm going to track down the headquarters of this Maximus Delivery and find out what's going on."

_"I suppose that means I should refrain from making dinner, sir?"_

"Put something in the fridge for me, Alfred. We do have a microwave after all."

_"Of course, sir. Not that I approve of sustaining your body with tv dinners, considering all you do."_

Bruce smiled as his body vanished into the mists of the night. "You can get ready to make me a real dinner as soon as I'm done with this case."

* * *

Lois stared at the large complex before her, toward the ocean docks of Gotham city. It was nothing impressive, just another office building, soaking in the rain and overwhelming mists that did not seem to relent. "Damn. What a way to spend the last few days before Thanksgiving," she complained, her hand moving toward the door latch. Tomorrow was Thanksgiving Eve, perhaps just another day for most people, but in Metropolis it was the source of tons of celebration. Every Thanksgiving Eve a massive, nighttime parade was held. Huge, several stories tall balloons were tugged through the air as marching bands paraded through downtown, while the lights of the surrounding skyscrapers were lit up with specially colored lights of red, green and blue. New organizations from all over the U.S. came to cover the evening parade that Metropolis held, the top social bloggers kept tabs and tweeted every float the marched by, and the city turned out by the hundreds of thousands. Personally, she couldn't wait until she got a chance to see it for herself. She and Clark had been planning for years to attend but, due to her investigate reporting and his need to save the world, they'd never been able to make it. On and off they'd planned to attend, hopefully with her in-laws, the Kents, but they'd never been able to work it out. She didn't know why she'd thought they'd be able to get it done this year. After all, Superman never got a rest.

"Eye on the prize, Lane," she told herself as she opened the door of her car, stepping out into the torrential downpour that seemed to soak into every inch of Gotham's fabric. "Whoever this Mr. White is, this is his building, and it's time to get to the bottom of why he's behind the shipping of tons of tech throughout the city."

She huffed as she darted down the street, staying under the cover of dark as she moved down the block, circling the Maximus Delivery Warehouse and angling toward the back of the building. Her footsteps reverberated in the shallow pools of water that gathered beneath her feet, pools splashing as she made her way onward and down the side of the facility. As she gathered herself, her eyes peeking around the corner, she saw little worth her attention. Like every warehouse facility along Gotham Bay, its warehouses were barren by now, with no signs of the delivery trucks that operated during the daytime. Seeing nothing worth her attention, she crept down the rear of the building, hands pressed against the walls as she slinked toward the rear entry of the facility. Her hands dropped to her pockets, removing a set of lockpicks that had served her well over the years, and her footsteps quickly carried her up the steps and to the doorway. A quick glance around revealed nobody nearby, not a surprise in a city as ridden with crime as this, and she quickly brought her tools to bear. The narrow forward edges pried into the locks of the door, quickly working at its mechanisms, before a satisfying _click _echoed in the night, mixing with the _pat pat pat _ of the rain as it was cast down from the heavens.

No alarms rang, no guards rushed at her as she pressed into the interior hallways of Maximus, her c oat flowing behind her as she crept within its hallways, ears scanning for any sounds and eyes darting back and forth. She silently wondered how it was she was still doing this, years after her first reporting adventures in Smallville, but shrugged it off. It was what she loved, and had earned her high accolades in her profession. She wasn't about to doubt her abilities and inclinations now.

As her feet pushed her forward, past rather barren hallways and toward a stairway that led up toward the higher floors of the building, she could feel her heart beating inside of her chest, pounding like a hammer as she moved upward into the highest reaches of the one company that seemed to connect all the high tech defense contractors that were siphoning profits from Wayne Enterprises and Queen Industries. Her footsteps alone rang out through the hallways, a resounding _clop clop _echoing down the barren stretches of the facility as she made her way down the third floor halls of the offices. Within minutes she was standing before an office, clearly labeled _Mr. White,_ and she was surprised to find that it was unlocked. Her fingers twisted the handle, and the moment she entered, she knew something was awry. There was nothing more than a desk and a chair sitting around. No files, no records, no computer to hack into. It was barren and empty. Taken a step inside, her senses at full alert, her eyes swept downward to the desk before her. In the darkness it was difficult to make out but, as her eyes adjusted to the light, she could see a simple playing card lying face down on its surface. Her fingers drifted across the desk, latching onto the card and turning it forward. In the dim light it was difficult to see what was on the card's face, but as her eyes came into focus, she was able to see what was marked across its surface.

"Joker?" she whispered softly, her head immediately darting backward, to the entryway she'd only moment before crossed. By then, it was entirely too late, as the entire world suddenly plummeted into black, her head spinning as all vision left her eyes.

* * *

Somewhere in the U.S., a single man, back turned toward his compatriot, spoke. His voice was low, hurt, pained. There was no joy in it, no excitement. "Once upon a time," he said, his tone flat, "I lived in a simpler world. From what I can tell, it was a time when life was easy. Free. Not always simplistic, not always the kindest, but I had people that helped me along the way. It's the only thing that makes sense."

His voice halted, a long sigh echoing in the darkness. "For some reason, those years are gone to me. I can remember little... maybe fragments. I keep trying to understand who I was, where I come from. I'm no orphan, but I feel like one, as if everything I've worked toward is for naught, because of the single reason that my past is hidden from me. In a perfect world, I'm not even sure this is the man I'd choose to be. However, it is the man I am. It was, apparently, my destiny."

The fingers of his hand locked around the armrests of his chair, propelling him upward, onto his feet. "I do not know what the future holds. How can I, when even my past is so fragmented. What I know, is that energy cannot be stopped. Once something has been set into motion, nothing can bring it to halt except an equally powerful force and, to be frank, I'm not so sure that any such thing exists in this world."

He turned, eyes glimmering in the dull lights, the dull glare of the television still illuminating the pitch back room. "In the end, I suppose, I'm really only asking for one thing. Mercy."


	7. Chapter 7: Business Details

**Chapter 7**

_"In the aftermath of the destruction, Zod was held up as both hero and genocidal criminal. Still, the Science Council, fearing the public backlash, took no action against him. As Krypton began to plot out just how they'd rebuild their great civilization, they were met with hard realities. Cut off from their colonies and territories, they had no way get supplies. They lacked the resources to create fuel for their great starships, which lingered, drifting in space. Consumed with so many concerns, they failed to see what I saw occurring to the planet as a result of using the Quantum Core. The planet's center, once home to a dynamic form of power, that could have been used to harness limitless energies for millennia, sat wasted and drained. The costs of trillions of lives meant we would be included in the tally, but nobody listened to my warnings. I was branded a heretic, even as violent earthquakes rocked our planet, the continents shivering beneath massive tremors, the oceans roaring up upon the shores as they swallowed coastal cities, while tornadoes and hurricanes whipped across the land. The surface of the planet opened up with great wounds as magma rose to the surface in great explosions, tossing blackened ash into our atmosphere. Once great Krypton was in its death throes."_

_-Jor-El_

Clark scratched at his forehead. If his eyes could go blurry from staring at a computer for too long, they would have by now. Thanks to his advanced genetics he didn't have that particular weakness, which didn't meant he was able to avoid the mental fatigue of having to do research all day. At his right were a stack of books, ledgers with names, company listings and various business individuals from throughout the Metropolis area. Not exactly gripping reading.

He remembered the first time he'd step foot into this place, the Daily Planet archives, in his first year working for the paper. He was fresh out of Smallville, barely coming to terms with the fact that he wasn't going to be the college undergrad type, like several of his friends were becoming. He'd kept a small circle throughout high school, but a few, like Pete Ross and Lana Lang, had become pretty important parts of his life over time. Lana had taken a shot at the college route, in astronomy, during the long stretch before she'd known his secret. Like a lot of kids out of Smallville, her fascination with the stars had come from the meteor shower that brought Clark to earth, an even nearly thirty years in his past now but one that had lingering repercussions throughout his high school years. The meteor showers' unique radioactive properties had granted several people, including Retribution, unique powers. That was Kryptonite for you.

Of course Lana hadn't been the only one to shoot for the college route. Lois had once, until she'd been thrown out for drinking. That was a habit she hadn't put away, although she'd graduated to wine, and reserved it for hard cases and weekends. Even Chloe had gone onto Metropolis University, pursuing her journalism degree. Meanwhile, Clark had stuck it out in Smallville, taking care of the farm while figuring out exactly the route he wanted to go. Turned out he hadn't needed a journalism degree to get a job at the Planet, not after some of the freelance work he'd done caught the attention of the editors there. For almost a decade now he'd spent his life working in the hallways of the Planet, working his way up from the pits beneath the Daily Planet to the offices at the top and, regardless of how Perry framed it, he knew his work was respected. He was glad it had worked out. While others had been going off to college, he'd been wondering if he even had the intelligence to make it anywhere outside of Smallville. That was the sort of thing it was hard to avoid thinking when everyone was moving on with their lives while he was left behind. Still, here he was, and it remained slightly funny. Despite his ability to fly, lift cars and burn holes in steel, he wanted to be respected for his journalism just as much as anything else he did. A man had to have some pride in his work, after all.

For years he'd been coming down here, to the archives. It was a first stop for a lot of investigations they did. The Daily Planet kept a database but, with all the issues of privacy and hacking, they maintained their records within the office only. You could log onto the company network from within the Planet but nowhere else, and some records were kept on paper only. It was the only way to keep prying eyes from looking at the books they maintained, and gave them some cover in case of lawsuits. It was a useful place, but the archives themselves weren't exactly eye candy. Buried in the lowest level of the Daily Planet, the meager windows that sat near the roof of the rooms and provided some light from outside were at street level, so they were constantly blocked by the footsteps of the daily workers moving by. Dim lights swung from the roof and occasionally shook as heavy trucks thundered by above ground, and perpetual artificial light was needed to keep the area remotely useful.

Clark's unique vision allowed him to see things even in lowlight that others couldn't, but he preferred a good lamp like anybody else. He wasn't sure other people understood how hard it was to look at the world in infrared. It wasn't comfortable, like straining your eyes to see something, although he didn't suffer the muscle pain. It was hard to really capture it in words. Here, in the archives, he was glad to have one of the classic green lamps that had been sitting around on the desks of the Planet for the past century. He'd gotten in early that day, ready for a day of research, though verifying each record had taken time. Still, there were patterns emerging.

"Hey Clark," a voice rang out, catching his attention. He glanced up from his work, spotting Jimmy Olsen, their fresh faced intern, as he walked up with a few sheets of paper in his hand. "I've got those investment records for you."

"Thanks Jimmy," he said, taking the papers and giving them a look over. "Hopefully these help."

"What are you finding?"

"Well, pretty much the same thing that Lois is finding. All these tech companies around Metropolis have their deliveries made by this Maximus Delivery Company, run by a Mr. White. That doesn't do anything about connecting them to Luthor, though. I think it's time we start taking a closer look at LexCorp's profit reports, not to mention some of the guys running these companies. They have to have some time to Lex. If this money is getting funneled into the company it should show up on their profit reports, which means they'd get a bump in their stock, so that's one thing to look at, but I also want to know who exactly is running these companies. Any chance you could do help me track down some of these names?"

"You got it Clark man," Jimmy replied, flashing that youthful smile. "Uh, just one thing. You said Mr. White, didn't you?"

"Yeah, that's right. Why?"

Jimmy pointed at the papers with his chin. "Can't be too sure but, when I took a look at Miles Agriculture's list of its largest investors, I thought I saw a Mr. White in the list."

Clark's eyes shifted over the top of his glasses. "A Mr. Jack White?"

"Yeah, I think so. Again, this is your investigation so I didn't want to be all creepy stalker and looking through your stuff, but you should definitely take a look at the investor's list."

Clark shook his head, eyes going to the list of papers again. "Ah, thanks, Jimmy. Tell you what, you give yourself a coffee break, go talk to one of the pretty interns or something while I look over this. I'll shoot you an email in a little bit after I give these papers a look."

"Sounds great Clark," Jimmy said with a point of his finger, backpedaling as he walked back to the stairwell, eager to get out of that grimy basement. Clark watched the young man vanish before taking a closer look at the papers in front of him, going through the investor's list, eyes scanning through. One particular sheet stood out and he brought it to the front, eyes quickly descending through the list.

"Mr. Jack White," he mumbled, finger tapping on the name. "Huge investment in Miles Agriculture. Seems this guy wasn't just making his mark in the shipping business. He's trying to diversify, get himself involved in the agricultural business as well." Clark looked aside, eyes looking at the computer. Bruce always told him he needed to trust his hunches more. Even Lois said the same thing. So, teeth grinding lightly on his lip, he shifted his chair, his fingers drifting to the phone. Quickly dialing up Joseph Miles, he waited as a voice slowly came to life on the other end.

_"Mr. Kent, good to hear from you," _Miles said from the other end. _"I take it this concerns our little interview the other day?"_

"Yes, Mr. Miles, it does. I'm just trying to clarify a few points about your company. I was looking at a list of some of your largest investors and couldn't help but notice one Mr. Jack White listed with a particularly large investment. This is all public information you've got listed on your website, so I hope I'm not stepping on any toes here."

There was a slight hesitation on the other end before Miles continued. _"No, not at all Mr. Kent. Yes, Mr. White is one of our largest investors. I'm sure you're aware he runs a rather large delivery and shipping company working primarily in Metropolis, Gotham City and Star City. Though, I'm not sure exactly why this would be of any concern to you. I thought you were doing a piece on Miles Agriculture's business practices in the Smallville area, not a piece on one of its investors and their shipping routes."_

"It's not that, Mr. Miles. I just find it odd that one of your largest investors is also running a monopoly delivering high tech materials."

_"Mr. Kent, that's just what we call good business. Mr. White obviously knows how to spot an opportunity and take advantage of it. You can't fault him for that."_

"No, I certainly can't, Mr. Miles. Just one last question."

_"What would that be?"_

Clark paused, hoping he wasn't showing to many of his cards on this question. "Do you have any connection to LexCorp?"

_"That's preposterous, Mr. Kent. Of course we don't. We're an agricultural company, not a weapons developer."_

"I understand. Thanks for the information."

_"You're welcome, Mr. Kent."_

As soon as they'd finished their conversation, Clark leaned back in his chair, folding his arms in front of him. Very few other people would have been able to hear what he'd heard. At the mention of Mr. White, Miles' breathing had become rapid and shallow, his heartbeat accelerating. The timber of his voice had pitched slightly higher, indicating tensions. There was something to this Mr. White, and he had to get to the bottom of it. Just as bad, though, had been Miles reaction to the mention of LexCorp. The increased breathing and shift in tone had been just as dramatic. Clark still wasn't sure what the connection was, who Mr. White was or how it all tied to Lex, but he was getting somewhere with all this. He just had to keep pushing.

His focus was broken as his cellphone suddenly sprang to life, his hand dropping to his pocket and pulling it to his face. "Hello?"

_"Clark," _came the soft voice of his mother, a trembling in her tone. _"Clark, I don't know... I didn't mention it before, but they're foreclosing on the farm."_

He sat upright, jaw falling at the words. "They're what?"

_"I'm sorry honey, I didn't think it would get this bad this quickly. I thought we had a few more months... but the banks..."_

"Stop. I'm heading straight over."

* * *

What had only two days before been a place of joy and brightness was now somber, grim, and unpleasant. As Clark pulled up in his car, eyes moving toward the farmhouse, he could his mom and dad holding onto one another on the porch of the house, sitting in the gentle swinging chair that had been a part of the family farm going back as far as he knew. He rumbled up the driveway, brown clouds of dust kicking up behind him as he did, and almost immediately jumped out of the car, nearly doing it while it was still chugging forward.

"Mom, dad!" he called, footsteps carrying him up onto the porch in one single gait, Shelby springing to life as he did, the dog's tail thumping madly as Clark arrived at the house. "What's going on?"

Jonathan Kent waved him off, frowning. "Ah, it's my fault Clark, I should have told you. I was just too proud to think this would actually happen so soon. Your mom told me she filled you in the other day..."

"Yeah, that's why I put some of my other work on hold. Apparently not even mom wanted to give me the whole story."

Martha Kent looked up, cheeks streaked with tears, her eyes shimmering. "I really didn't think it was this bad. Your father and I have been trying to keep the farm afloat for a while but Miles Ag has just been... just been buying up everything and running us out of business."

Jon shook his head. "I was thinking about putting up some of the land for sale, but every acre we sell off is one less we have for harvest. Soon we wouldn't have enough to make a living off, and we'd be in this position anyway."

"We're just going to have to find something else to do. Maybe go back to Metropolis? I still have work I can get there..."

Clark's head dropped in shock. "At LexCorp? Are you serious, mom? There's no way you're ever working for a Luthor again, not after what him and I have been through."

"No Clark, not at LexCorp. I have a strong resume, that's not the only job I can get. With my experience I can think of a number of places I could get work."

Jon shook his head. "Much as I hate to say it, I might have to do the same, finding work somewhere on one of Miles' big factory farms."

Clark waved all these ideas off. "Let's not jump the gun here, okay guys? I get it, things are bad. The banks are going to foreclose, but you don't have to move immediately, do you? I mean, they've got to let you have some time, right? They can't expect you to be gone overnight."

"No, we have a little time Clark," Jon said, nodding. "Not much, but just enough that we're going to have to find a new place to live. Hopefully nothing too expensive right away."

"Well you know if you do need a place to stay, Lois and I would be more than happy to have you stay with us until you got on your feet."

"No, Clark, we wouldn't dream of it. You two have your own lives, we couldn't impose."

"You know that's not how we'd feel about it."

Jon sighed, looking at his son. "If it comes to that, we'll let you know, but we're going to at least try to land on our feet close to home."

"Fair enough. Could you at least tell me what happened with the bank though? Mom, you're saying you thought you had more time."

She nodded, taking in a deep breath as she tried to compose herself. "We thought we had arrangements. We had a loan to keep the farm afloat and we were renegotiating the terms. Honestly, I was hopeful. I thought we had time to get back on our feet. Like we said, your dad was thinking about switching back to all organic crops, selling to a different market. Then, out of nowhere, the bank says they're going to have to foreclose on the farm. Straight up, no explanations. All they said was that they were going to have to recoup their money, and that means taking the farm."

"That doesn't make sense," Clark said, walking back and forth along the porch. "Unless the bank itself is having some financial troubles. Who did you go through?"

"The same people we've always gone through, Clark. Smallville Banking."

"Smallville Banking. They're probably operating under a larger umbrella to get some of their assets to make loans out here. I'm going to take a look into it, but I've already got a hunch about whose pocket they're in."

"What are you implying, Clark?"

Their son's jaw rocked back and forth as he mulled over the consequence of what he was about to say. "I think Lex is making a big grab for properties out here in Smallville and, one way or the other, he's determined to get it. He's using Miles Ag to pick up all the old plots that the old Luthor Corp purchased years back, and whatever he hasn't been able to take that way, he's used Miles to bully farmer out of their land. Now he wants your property too and since he hasn't been able to get it through Miles, he's using the bank. I bet a little investigation will reveal that Smallville Banking is getting funded through LexCorp or one of its subsidiaries." Clark pounded his fist into his palm, the impact creating a small thrust of wind that shook the house. "I don' t have all the evidence to piece it together though. Why go through all this effort to get back into the agriculture business? And why hammer Smallville this way?"

Jonathan Kent's eyes trembled slightly. "Son, do you think... Is it possible that he might be recovering his memories?"

"I don't know dad. Until now he hasn't seemed interested in coming to Smallville. To be honest, the few times I've had to talk to him as Clark he's been nothing but confused about how we could have ever been friends. Now it seems he's coming after Smallville, hard."

"But you said it yourself. It might not even be him, right?"

Clark huffed, looking aside. "Maybe I just want to believe it's him, since he and I have had nothing but bad run ins over the years. That's not the future I thought we were going to have when I saved him from that car accident back in high school."

"Who else could it be though?"

Clark turned back to his parents. "There's one name that keeps popping up all over these investigations, but I haven't really been able to trace who it is. There's a man, Jack White, who's been investing really heavily in Miles Ag, not to mention running high tech deliveries to all the defense developers that have been contracting with the government. For all I know, once I look into Smallville Banking, he might be behind them too. I don't know, but he's starting to look like a Lex 2.0. Wealthy businessman, has his hands in a lot of different things, seems really aggressive with his business. I just don't have enough to make all the connections yet."

"Well, I think you'd better get on it, son. If anybody can save this farm, you can."

He nodded to the two of them, taking a deep breath. "Yeah. I'll get on it tonight." He nodded toward the doorway. "Come on. I'll make dinner."

"Son, you don't have to..."

"Dad. Seriously. You two have had a rough day."

Jon Kent looked down at his wife, who nodded, before glancing back up at his son. "Well, alright. Just wish you didn't have to worry about all this so close to Thanksgiving."

"I know. Lois has been really looking forward to the Thanksgiving Eve parade in Metropolis. Who knows if we'll make it now."

* * *

Chloe tapped her pen to her chin as she looked at the screen in front of her. "Ollie, I'm worried," she said flatly, eyes darting between multiple open windows on her screen. "About Lois."

From around the corner in their kitchen he poked his head out. "Why's that now?"

"She hasn't called. I mean, this isn't necessarily unusual. When she gets really into a case, she'll vanish for a few days at a time. But I mean, she was so really into this one, and she said she wanted to be in contact to exchange notes on what we were finding."

"And what are we finding?" he asked as he zipped back into the kitchen, the sound of plates clattering from within. "Dinner in five seconds, by the way."

"This Jack White, Ollie. Maximus. All these tech companies. Neither Maximus or the tech companies existed until just a few years ago, and they all sprang up at about the same time, right around when Lex got into office."

Oliver walked toward the computer desk where she sat, settling a plate down in front of her before grabbing a chair, which he pulled up beside her, his own plate in hand. "Suspicious, for sure."

"Here's what's more suspicious. This Jack White that's supposedly in charge of Maximus... just comes out of nowhere. No previous record of business in shipping or investments, no idea where he got the money to start all this up. It's like he never existed before a few years ago. At least, not in Star City."

Oliver's nose crinkled. "Then where?"

"Maximus Delivery is headquartered out of Gotham City. Not too surprisingly, the name Jack White does appear as an investor and business owner for a few companies in the area, mostly having to do with chemical development and biotech. This Mr. White is a real connoisseur of cutting edge technology."

"Interesting. So what's our next move? I'm not sure I can make time to get out to Gotham. Business right now is tight and as much as I'd like to, I can't just leave it. Queen Industries pays the bills that lets me be the Arrow."

"No, I know Ollie. I don't want to rush on a plane out there either. Lois is already on the ground in Gotham, so really, that's one more reason I'm a bit anxious. I'd really just like to know what she's uncovering. If she can fill in some of these gaps, that'd really help out. So I say that, as much as it pains me, we wait. At least for a day or two, until we get word from her."

Oliver frowned, glancing at his wife. "Well. What if we don't? Not to be the negative one in this conversation. I mean, Gotham's not exactly a city of light in a dark world."

"You're right, one more reason that I'm worried. I just don't want to rush to conclusions. I'm sure she's fine, just deep into her investigation. Two days. That's what I'll give her."

"Sounds fair enough," he said, plunging his fork into the chopped steak upon his plate. "Well for now, feel like a bite? I'm going to make you appreciate a good, rare steak one day."

"Thanks Ollie but to be honest, I've seen enough blood over the years to know I'd really just rather not have my food bleeding."

"Hilarious," he said with a wink as he brought the food to his mouth.

* * *

Bruce Wayne sat at his lengthy dinner table, a full plate before him, and a stack of papers in his hand. His frown stretched from end to end on his face as his eyes darted from paragraph to paragraph, hardening in his features as he did.

"Your father would say that if you keep doing that eventually you'll end up looking that way permanently," Alfred quipped as he moved into the dining hall.

"Very funny Alfred," Bruce replied, setting the papers down.

"Another bad report?"

"I can't move a dollar without Lex's auditors being all over it," he complained, settling back into his chair. "I can go to war against criminal lords like Black Mask, evade the toxins of the Joker and solve deadly puzzle after deadly puzzle set out by the Riddler. The one enemy I can't defeat?" His eyebrow cocked upward. "The I.R.S."

"The only things we're assured of in this life, Master Bruce, are death and taxes."

He smiled. "Benjamin Franklin."

"I know how much you hate being hands on with the business that has your name on it, but perhaps this is one time you'll have to take the lead for your board of investors. Everyone trusts Mr. Fox but you are, of course, the son of Thomas Wayne. I would suggest taking the time out tomorrow to make an appearance though, of course, I don't suspect you'll heed my advice."

Bruce frowned, looking at old compatriot. "Alfred. Your advice, over all others, I respect. After this many years I would think you know this."

"Good to hear, Master Bruce. It would be nice to see, also."

He sighed, folding his hands on the table. "I'll be there."

"I'll lay out your suit, then," he replied, a slight smile on his lips as he turned away, the sound of his heels clicking in the cavernous halls of the mansion. As he disappeared, Bruce took one last look at the papers in front of him. The top page differed from all the rest.

"Interesting," he noted, his free hand reaching for the glass of water on the table. "Maximus also runs transportation for food suppliers from Smallville. A..." His eyes narrowed as he read the name. "Miles Agriculture. I'll have to take a look into that tomorrow," he said as he grunted, shaking his head. "After the board meeting."


	8. Chapter 8: All Things Hinge On Gotham

**Chapter 8**

_"In the face of the trauma that was rocking our world, desperation took hold of even our strongest hearts. General Zod, unable to cope with the reality that his actions had doomed our planet to its death, railed against the SCience Council. He accued them of negligence, of daming the world, and at every turn pushed his failures on others. In a desperate attempt to exert control over the fate of our dying planet, he raided the chambers of the Science Council, killing at least one of the revered members of Krypton before sending his forces across the planet. I was among his first targets, among the few he thought that could save the planet from its fate. I knew otherwise and, instead, sought a way to save my only son. You, Kal-El."_

_-Jor-El_

"My fellow Americans," the voice said calmly, pleasant and firm. "Tomorrow is Thanksgiving Eve, an evening on which we parade and celebrate an annual holiday. We ask ourselves, what does it mean to be American? More importantly, what does it mean to be human? When you elected me almost four years ago, I promised that I Would seek to secure the future for your children. Over the years, I havebolstered our international efforts, hunting down terrorist elements such as Al-Qaeda. I have sought out their greatest leaders, and at every turn tried to secure our borders and national security."

President Luthor paused, sucking in a deep breath. "Not everyone has agreed with my decisions. Some have second guessed me before I could even initiate my programs, legally sanctioned by Congress. Regardless of this mistrust, regardless of how we have so often tried to fight our fellow Americans in the name of a better future, I am here to tell you that I love this country and its people. I believe, wholeheartedly, that mankind has an opportunity unique in the universe to become a shining example of truth, justice, and all we hold dear as a species. We have learned through difficulty, revolution and civil war that the rights we cherish most are only hard won, through great effort and sacrifice. This is a sacrifice we must all make, either as soldiers on the battlefield, or civilians in our homes as we willingly pay a higher price for goods, so that the extra profits benefit our military efforts.

"Nothing good comes easy, or cheap. It takes a daily renewal and sacrifice. I came from a broken home, the son of a father more interested in aggressive economic expansion than lovingly caring for his family. Yet here I stand, elected by the people, an example of what it is to be hurt, broken, abused, and yet altogether human. You chose me to lead you, and though not all my decisions have pleased all people, I have tried. What I ask, as our Thanksgiving approaches, is that you understand everything I've done is to make our people, not even America, but the world, a more secure and prosperous generation. Though in the moment it is difficult to see, I hope that, in years gone by, you will look back and believe that everything I have done as president has been because I believe in our race, mankind."

He paused, eyes staring ahead. "Tomorrow I will have the great honor of watching the annual Metropolis Thanksgiving Eve parade. For the past few years, in my role as president, it's something I've been unable to see. Whether due to military crisis, economic necessity, or the everyday pressures of my office, I have never been afforded a chance to watch the pleasantries of the Metropolis parade. It is a uniquely American experience, though the bonds we share as humans, celebrating our triumphs and sacrifices, makes this holiday one we share with the world."

Lex glanced down, eyes watering slightly before he looked back at the camera. "God bless you, and God bless America."

* * *

"I'm just not sure about the direction you want to take," Lucius Fox said, his silky voice rising above the tumultuous arguments rising in the board room of Wayne Enterprises. "Look, I'm on board with some of what you're saying. Does it feel like we're being unfairly targeted by the auditors? Yes. Do I think Lex might be focusing some of his ire on the company? Of course I do, but that doesn't mean he actually has anything on Wayne Enterprises. I can guarantee you there are no secret projects, no diversions of funds. We itemize every single expense we make and make those reports publicly available. So, to all of you who are sitting here, wondering whether Mr. Wayne is-"

A sudden click from the doorway leading into the conference room stopped him in mid delivery, the business suit clad gentlemen all turning at once to see the imposing figure that stepped within. Bruce had always been tall, but over the years the sheer muscle he'd put on was visible even beneath the folds of his suit. His strong jaw, the intelligence in his eyes, and more than anything, that determined stare he had whenever he applied himself to something, all marked him as a far different person than the one he'd been even just a few years before.

"Excuse me, members of the board," he said, that calm, cool voice of his ringing throughout the room. "May I join in on this conversation? I do believe this is still my company."

Fox grinned slightly, eyeing his employer. "Mr. Wayne. I don't believe any of us could say no if we wanted to."

Bruce nodded slightly, returning the smile as he stepped up to the table, the long line of investors on either side staring up at him in a mix of both hesitation and awe. Over the years, the wealthy billionaire's image had fluctuated wildly, like a person with bipolar disorder. Early on, Bruce had come across as a lackadaisical playboy, jaunting from party to party, wearing women on his elbows and dazzling the Gotham glitterati with his charm, wit and, above all, money. It was an image that he flashed to this day from time to time, and it made seem incredibly shallow. Mixed in with that shallow imagery, which members of the board can increasingly come to see as a mask, was a man with a sense of determination that few others possessed. At first little more than a man child living off the wealth of the revered Dr. Thomas Wayne, Bruce had come into his own. The charity foundations he'd started to benefit the city were known as some of the best in the country, and he committed a fraction of his vast wealth to supporting and funding inner city programs, providing computers, new books and scholarships to students from elementary school to high school. The Thomas Wayne Foundation had tripled its budget under Bruce's oversight, providing free medical clinics throughout the city, including the city's notoriously crime ridden Park Row. Also known as Crime Alley, it was the site of Thomas and Martha Wayne's death years before, and was a place Bruce visited at least annually to commemorate their passing. In his mother's memory, he'd also tripled the budget of the Martha Wayne Foundation. Under its leadership, the city had gone about a massive refurbishing effort, placing works of art in public places, restoring the ancient gothic architecture, the art deco elements, creating public parks for children, hiring new teachers for schools and establishing orphanages for the many children who'd lost parents to Gotham's violent tendencies.

Wayne had also shown himself to be a surprisingly deft businessman. While many had wondered whether he had the capacity to lead the company at the outset, Bruce had guided them from an already profitable U.S. corporation to an international competitor in the fields of biotech, weapons development, transportation, electronics, not to mention its growing presence in the media. Its acquisitions over the last few years included the Daily Planet, giving it a presence in traditional media, as well as the former Scott Telecommunications, which allowed them to profit from television partnerships throughout the country. It's fledgling internet projects were only just being developed, but the stock holders had little doubt in Bruce's ability. Whatever they thought of his playboy image, they also knew he was a firm leader who'd never led the company to a losing quarter on the stock market.

"So I'm assuming that the current concern involves President Luthor's concerns about our company?" he asked, walking halfway down the side of the table, eyes moving from face to face. "Am I in the ballpark?"

"You'd be right, Mr. Wayne," Lucius returned, nodding. "More than a few of our board members have expressed concern about the way that Wayne Enterprises is spending the funds we're getting from the government. They also want to know how we're going to respond to these inquiries and audits. Not minor concerns, to be fair."

"Of course," Bruce said, returning down the side of the table, walking slowly, deliberately. "Now, I know that you're all anxious about these audits. I'm not the happiest about them, either. However, the best thing I can do is assure you that we here at Wayne Enterprises have never misappropriated funds, never skimmed from the top. Every dime we get goes toward the project it was intended for."

He reached the end of the table, turning slightly, his muscular profile framed in the doorway. "Our latest, and largest defense contract was for a new, highly mobile stealth fighter, the SF-40. You've all seen the specs, know what it can do. It's a VTOL aircraft, a design that other contractors have had trouble implementing but that we seamlessly integrated, allowing it to take off and land vertically without the needs for runways. It's got an incredibly lean profile and its surface is made of composite materials. Combined with its electronics package, our design is almost invisible to radar and virtually impossible to spot at night, making it an impressive stealth craft. Combined with its onboard weapons payload, our design has been vetted, and an incredibly detailed expense report produced to illustrate where all of our money went during the design and production of this piece of technology. Of course, in the creation of new technology, you won't always be able to be successful at every turn. Some designs did not perform the way we thought, and certain elements had to be scratched. We turned out variants that weren't as successful as we'd planned, and were forced to disassemble and recreate our fighter. That bloats the budget and creates some discrepancies in the expense reports, but by and large, it's fairly easy to see that 90% of the money is cleanly accounted for. When you take into consideration the loss of some elements, you can see where discrepancies pop up, but nothing of such concern that the board should be concerned by our auditors."

Of course, what Bruce failed to mention as he sweet talked his investors was the fact that many of those pieces that were disassembled for reuse had found their way into Lucius Fox's private laboratory and production facility, an engineer's paradise where he and his small team were given free reign to produce whatever they wanted. While those working directly under Fox simply assumed they were playing with new designs meant for military inspection, Fox and Wayne knew otherwise, though the simplicity of the ruse was its genius. Under the guise of creating new designs for the U.S. Air Force, they'd managed to go through two generations of Batwing designs. Their latest incarnation was, for all intents and purposes, a modified version of the SF-40. Its emphasis was heavier on stealth and speed than weapons payload, though it maintained an electronics package that allowed it to scramble enemy detection and did retain some limited weaponry, just in case. Not that Bruce hoped to ever use the weapons. He abhorred killing. As a man who refused to even pick up a traditional gun, be it a pistol or rifle, the notion of having missiles aboard his jet made him incredibly uncomfortable. Still, if he ever needed to blow out a bridge or something, he had the payload to do it.

"Mr. Wayne," a voice interrupted, asking from close to Lucius. "None of us think you're skimming the top, or anything like that. What's a few million to a man with your fortune? More importantly though, some of us worked with, and knew your father, quite closely. Regardless of whether we've always been confident in your decisions, I think I can safely say that we all feel you inherited his sense of integrity and honesty. A look at the Wayne Foundation's work in Gotham can tell us that."

Bruce paused, unsure of how to respond. Not given to extreme displays of emotion and seeped into his vigilante persona most of the time, he rarely indulged his feelings. Still, the mere thought of being compared to with his father, whom he'd seen as being the personification of honesty and integrity, was humbling. It was, undoubtedly, the highest honor he felt he could be given, and it was enough to stop him for just a moment as he composed himself. "I... ah..." He coughed, clearing his throat. "Thank you, Mr. Gervins. There's no way for me to properly convey how much that means."

"Of course Mr. Wayne. If I may say one more thing though?"

"Yes?"

"While none of us are worried about your integrity, sir, we do worry about this investigation. We all know Wayne Enterprises and LexCorp have been battling it out in similar fields for years now. It's distressing that we have to deal with this much scrutiny. It makes us worry about our investments."

Wayne nodded, acknowledging the concern. "I don't know for sure that President Luthor has anything to do with this. None of us do, really, even if it does seem suspicious. I'd like every member of the board to think about this. If the President of the United States were to use a wing like the I.R.S. to coerce or harm a former business competitor, it would be a national scandal. He'd be torn apart in the media. Remember, Wayne Enterprises influences 20% of the broadcasts made nationally. Among others, our news networks would be taking him to task for something like that, and we're not the only ones that would. The media loves a good story, after all, and a president lowering himself to using the government as a tool for personal vendettas would crush any chance he had at a second term. So, to be frank, I don't think looking any closer into this investigation will do us any good. In the off chance Luthor had ordered these audits to further his business agenda, you wouldn't find it in writing. A word, said here or there, to the right people would be enough. I doubt we'll find any smoking gun."

He raised a finger. "It should be obvious I'm not concerned about the audits but, that said, we have a legitimate economic squeeze happening. The loss of government contracts has severely limited Wayne Enterprise's income. Our investments into entertainment and media still aren't leading to profits, and even many of our biotech research was oriented around government funding. We're going to start marketing to the private market, a failing I will take personal responsibility for. It's difficult to predict when a third of your income is suddenly going to vanish, at what seems the whim of a vengeful president. That said, for now, I'd tighten your belts. This may be the company's first quarter in which we're forced to declare a loss and I have no doubt our stock is soon going to have its first losing quarter since I took ownership. I hope you can bear with me during this trying time."

There were murmurs and grumbles from around the table, but no outright complaints. Each one of these men was wealthier now than they had been when Bruce had taken control, and had little to balk about. They might not like the news, but Bruce had been good to them far more often than not over the years. As the talking settled down, Wayne folded his arms, standing at the head of the table as his gaze moved between their faces. "Now, before I go. Tomorrow is Thanksgiving Eve. Do yourselves a favor, gentlemen. Each one of you is aware of the loss I suffered when I was young. The deaths of Thomas and Martha Wayne affected this city greatly, even if some have forgotten, or never knew, the influence they had. What they were to this city, people who fought to inspire and better it, is something that will be with me until my final breath. As people, though, they are gone. There has not been a Thanksgiving I've been able to spend with them since they passed away those many years ago. So, use the next two days wisely, and stop thinking about your wallets, and more about your families. Be with them, and be thankful for them. We don't get to pick the day we pass on, but we can control how we spend the time we have." He nodded, turning away. "Happy Thanksgiving, gentlemen."

* * *

Clark eyed the records in front of him, passing through a number of papers that he'd laid out on his desk at the Daily Planet. Behind him, the chattering, ringing of phones and other distractions might have managed to keep him from his work if not for the fact that he was so focused on what was in front of him. "Maximus Delivery Company," he mumbled, picking up the sheets and shuffling them once again. "Tech deliveries to multiple weapons developers contracted with the government. During this same period, LexCorp declares record financial profits. LexCorp stock skyrockets, Wayne Enterprises and Queen Industries stock plummets. That's no coincidence."

He picked up another set of papers. "Maximus Delivery Company. Contracted with Miles Agriculture and Farming to deliver food to major urban centers in the U.S., with an emphasis on Metropolis, Gotham City and Star City. Again, that can't be a coincidence. The man behind Maximus is Jack White. The man funding Miles Agriculture is, again, Jack White."

He picked up a final few sheets of paper. "This month, Smallville Banks begins to foreclose on homes and call in debts. Why?" He looked over the reports in front of him, shaking his head. "Smallville Banking recently warned that it might be restricting lines of credit and adjusting its loans so, it was getting squeezed, somehow." His eyes switched to another set of papers. "Miles Agriculture also recently declared they'd be shifting assets out of the area. It's a publicly traded company, and has a set of investors, one of the largest of whom is Jack White. So this decision would have had to come from the board of directors."

Then there was this, which he'd just gotten from a report Jimmy had filed with him. A few years before, a Jack White had been active in Gotham City, where Maximus Delivery Company had been hired. The product he'd been working on was engineered plant life that would respond in unique ways to the presence of various chemicals, allowing them to introduce certain types of chemicals that would kill pests but stimulate an aggressive response from the plants, allowing them to ignore and fight off the effects of the chemical agents. It was genius, a simple and effective way to create plants that could be stimulated by chemicals to produce multiple, bountiful crops, but also resists the elements of weather and insects. This all came back to one man.

He'd had enough. Stepping away from his desk he rushed back to his vehicle, gritting his teeth at the need to use it just to get out of town and keep up appearances. Still, as he plowed away through the highways and into the amber fields that surrounded the countryside around Metropolis, he had time to think. His teeth, grinding upon one another as he simmered in his anger, began to ache. The vehicle ushered him forward at a slow seventy miles per hour, the distant image of Miles Agriculture slowly coming into view as he did. Almost immediately after he entered the parking lot he was flying out the door, into its hallways and rushing past the reception desk.

"Mr. Kent!" cried out the young woman at the front, but Clark paid no attention, jamming his hand against the doors and forcing them open as he rushed into Miles' office. For a moment he was once again possessed by nostalgia. So often, as a young man, he'd found himself rushing to Lex's mansion and entering as if it was his own home, as if Lex owed him an audience. It was a horrible sense of privilege he'd tried to repress over the years, but at the moment he found it impossible to maintain full control of himself.

"Miles!" he said, not shouting, but firm and angry. "We need to talk."

The receptionist rushed into the room, breathing heavily. "I'm so sorry Mr. Miles, he just walked right past me, didn't even give me a chance to stop him..."

Miles Joseph got to his feet, waving her away. "No, it's fine. Mr. Kent and I will have a talk."

She nodded, allowing the door to close. Miles got to his feet, walking toward the front of the desk and leaning back, slightly seated on its front edge. "How can I help you, Mr. Kent."

"You're not really running Miles Agriculture. Jack White is."

Miles' face twitched slightly. "And why would you say that?"

"I've got record of Maximus Delivery Company running tech through three cities. Who owns it? Jack White. All your products are shipped through the same three cities. I've got Smallville Banking suddenly squeezing farmers and foreclosing right after you decided to move your money out of the town. Who's on the board that makes those decisions? Jack White." Clark's fists clenched up as he tried to steady his voice. "Where is Maximus headquartered? Gotham. And guess who used to work in Gotham producing genetically modified crops that could withstand chemical compounds like pesticides?"

Miles shook his head, glancing away. "Mr. White."

"So why the ruse, Miles? Why the front? Who is this guy?"

"Mr. White likes his privacy, Mr. Kent. Whatever grand conspiracy you think is taking place, White's just trying to make a dollar. He doesn't like to be in the public eye, so I'm the face of the company."

"And how'd you two meet?"

"Well, I've never actually met him, face to face. He works through two proxies, one a Ms. Sharon Quinn and the other a Ms. Vana Gravas. I met Ms. Vana Gravas, years ago, as a junior executive at LexCorp. She said she was headhunting for Mr. White, trying to get his product to market, but that he was incredibly reclusive and unwilling to front the company himself. What else could I do in my position? I wanted to be free to run my own company, to forge its own success, so I took the opportunity I was given."

"So your first contact was Ms. Vana Gravas."

"Yes, though we rarely see each other anymore. Over the last year she's been replaced by Ms. Sharon Quinn. Meetings here concerning Mr. White's needs or requests are held with her. All phone calls go through her. At our board meetings, she proxies for him." He chuckled, shaking his head. "To be honest with you, now that I think about it, I've never actually heard Mr. White. Still, he's the one with the money, though I have substantial holdings of my own now. I was actually thinking off spinning off my own company from this one too, but wanted to wait until the end of the quarter to let her know. It's bad business for a company's president to suddenly up and leave, and after all Mr. White's done for me, the least I could do is give him some forewarning about my departure."

Clark shook his head, placing a palm to his face for half a second. "None of this seems odd to you? At all? That you've never met this Mr. White, or that he's putting this squeeze on Smallville?"

"He wants the land, Mr. Kent. The more fields he has, the more he can produce, the more he can sell. Again, it's no huge conspiracy. It's just business."

Clarke turned about, unconvinced, but happy at least that he had a few more leads to follow. "Well thanks for the impromptu meeting, Mr. Miles."

"Mr. Kent, may I say, sincerely, that I hope this is the last one we ever have."


	9. Chapter 9: Two Rivers

**Chapter 9**

_"Zod gave me the choice of joining him in saving the world, a world he would rule. The only alternative was death, either at his hands or in the devastation that was coming to Krypton. I managed to evade him, taking refuge along with your mother, Lora, in the great science citadel where I had secretly been working on a vessel that would carry you away from our dying planet. As the citadel's defenses held off Zod and his minions, I worked feverishly, while your mother held you close. Already the planet was shuddering in its death throes. No matter what Zod had dreamt, there was no possible way of saving our world, not after the abuse we had committed. This Universe has its own justice, Kal-El. It would not allow our people to survive after the great genocide we committed in the attempts to preserve our civilization."_

_-Jor-El_

Chloe sighed as she paced back and forth in the Queen home, taking a deep breath to calm herself. Night was falling, and she still hadn't heard from Lois. Tomorrow would be Thanksgiving Eve, a night that Lois had come to love over her years living in Metropolis. She'd talked incessantly about trying to make the parade that year with Clark, and even invited Chloe and Oliver out to Metropolis to join the festivities. Of course, because of Ollie's responsibilities, they hadn't been able to commit to anything. Still, this wasn't how she'd expected to spend her Thanksgiving week, wondering where Lois was and why she hadn't even attempted to get in touch.

Oliver walked up behind her, already clad in his Green Arrow gear. "Hey, are you alright?" he asked as he approached from behind, wrapping his arms around her waist, the back of her blonde head resting against his chest. She sighed, her body shaking slightly.

"It's just... I'm getting worried, Ollie. Really worried. I know I said I'd give it two days, but given what day tomorrow is..." She huffed, strands of her hair flying upward. "I just don't want to have to be sitting around on Thanksgiving Even wondering if Lois is alive or night."

"I hear you. She's tough though, you know. Giver her some credit. If anybody can go into Gotham and survive, it's Lois. She knows what she's doing."

"That's nice of you to say, but..."

"Yeah yeah, I know," he said, lowering his chin slightly and kissing her along the top of her head. "I don't have to go out tonight, you know? I can stay in if you want."

She pulled away, turning to face him. "No, Star City needs you. I know Lois is okay, I'm just stressed out waiting for to call. I just thought we'd be on this case together, you know, exchanging information and going after the bad guys. Like old times."

"Well, the old times weren't always so great," he said with a half grin. "I know you said you were going to try and get some of the information you picked up to Clark. So did you ever get a hold of him?"

"No, I actually I sent the information through that new kid, JImmy Olsen. You remember his older brother?"

Oliver looked away, rubbing at the back of his head. "How could I forget. Poor guy, killed by that one guy infected with meteor radiation."

She shook her head, folding her hands in front of her chest. "That's right, and while trying to protect me. His brother and I were just involved for so long, I feel I owe it to the family to help this new Jimmy out. So I sneaked a few things his way, a few leads that might put him on the trail to seeing who this Mr. White was. This way Clark gets the information he needs, and Jimmy gets a boost to his career."

"You always have a plan Chloe," he said, winking at her. "But hey, I shouldn't be scared, should I? You're not trying to get with the new Jimmy now, are you?"

"You're so dumb sometimes Oliver," she said with a shake of her head, stepping back to her desk. "Now get out there, somewhere some beautiful young damsel in distress needs you to save her from some random mugger trying to snatch her purse. Go."

"Okay, but if you need anything, I've got the Arrow Ear on me."

"Seriously?" she asked, mouth dropping in disbelief. "Are you really going to be naming everything you make the 'Arrow-something'?"

"If you like that, you're really going to love what I've got planned next. As soon as I get the funds together, I'm going to be putting a jet together of my own, just like Batman. Guess what it's going to be called?"

"Please don't tell me..."

He smiled, that charmingly indulgent smile he used when he thought he was being clever. "That's right. The Arrow Plane."

She grunted, waving him away. "Get out of here Oliver!"

* * *

Lex Luthor sat at the end of a long dining table, jaw sifting back and forth as he mulled over the food prepared for him by his chefs. The men working at the White House were, undoubtedly, some of the best in the world, and Lex had never had a reason to complain. His issue today was not the food, nor his hunger. He just didn't feel compelled to eat. He got this way, from time to time, when his thoughts got away from him, and he began to think just a bit too much for his own good.

"Sir?" asked the female voice seated just a chair down from his. "Do you want me to have the chefs prepare something different?"

He shook his head, looking to her and forcing a smile. "No, Mercy, the food's fine. Just lost in thought is all."

"Do you want to share?"

Lex thought it over, staring into the crystal blue eyes of his personal assistant. Over the years he'd had many, some ruthless, some incompetent, some genius, but never one so rounded in so many areas. He'd discovered Mercy early after he renamed Luthor Corp to LexCorp, when she was living off the streets. She'd been little more than a street tough at the time, although she'd somehow ended up on the wrong end of the gun in a dealing with Intergang, an ruthless criminal organization that Luthor despised but was forced to tolerate as a component of Metropolis. Still, he'd respected her willingness to fight back against them as they'd encroached on a part of Metropolis she considered 'hers', and he'd been just as unwilling to let them spread their drug cartel into a part of the city he'd actively been trying to modernize. So, after sending in his own men to push them back, he'd offered her a chance to rehabilitate. She'd been just as untrusting of him as she'd been of Intergang, at first, but over time he'd won her over. In the same span of years, she'd done the same to him, and he now shared the closest thing to a friendship with another human being than he had in years.

"It's difficult."

"Of course, sir. I apologize."

He frowned, drumming his fingers once as he looked at her. "You could give me a little something here, Mercy. Push me a bit until I hesitantly open it. Isn't that how it works?"

She allowed herself a slight smile. "You're Lex Luthor, sir. You don't need anybody to push you. You'll do what you want if you want to."

He glanced upward at the roof, returning the smile. "I've never been able to figure you out entirely, Mercy." Lex shook his head, glancing back down on her. "I've just been wondering about my past, and everything I don't remember."

"Oh, so this is about Smallville again."

"Right. I've been trying to figure out why I would have spent so much time there. At one point I, apparently, purchased all new football gear for their football team, as well as took ownership of the coffee shop there." His face shook in disbelief. "A small town coffee shop, Mercy! What am I, from Portland?"

She laughed, lifting the bill of her driver's hat slightly so she could see him more clearly. "We all do things we don't understand later."

"Yes, but most of us can remember those things. I can't remember a damn thing about those years. Then you have the enigma that is Clark Kent. Everyone with long term experience in the company, going back to when my dad ran it, says that he and I were great friends. At one time my father disowned me, and guess where I ended up spending my time?"

"The Kent Farm," she answered for him.

"Exactly. I mean, I can understand, to a degree. I had my assets frozen, I had nowhere to go, but why Clark Kent of all people?" His eyes drifted to the fire behind the dining table. "There are things about this that just seem like too much coincidence, and I don't believe in coincidence. Clark Kent and his wife have continued to hound everything I do well into our time in Metropolis. Lois still tries to dig up dirt on anything I do in hoping of getting me impeached. To no surprise? Both spent large amounts of time in Smallville. Hell, Clark is from there."

She shook her head. "I don't think that's so strange, sir. These are people you knew when you were younger, and obviously you made some sort of impression. Apparently a bad one, considering the fact that they're basically trying to get you held up for treason."

"It's a far cry from what it seems we once were. Friends," he said, teeth sliding back and forth along his upper lip. "There's a minor report in the newspapers from back then about a car crash I was in. Apparently, Clark saved me. If you go back through the newspapers from that time, his name pops up now and again, usually tied to unusual incidents in the area. Nothing that, on its own, is that outstanding. It's just... when you look at the whole picture, it's hard not to imagine that there was something else happening in Smallville at that time."

"What do you mean, sir?"

"The parade of people with superhuman abilities that came out of Smallville is nothing short of extraordinary, the results of the radioactive meteor fragments that saturated the town. Violent acts, abhorrent ones, were committed, and yet somehow each of these mutants were either killed or apprehended under unclear circumstances. Now you tell me, Mercy, how far is Smallville from Metropolis? You've driven me back and forth from there enough times."

"Um, just about an hour and a half, sir."

"Right. Do you know, before Superman, there was another so-called hero dressed in red and blue known as the Blur. Do you know when he made his first appearance?"

"No sir," she said, frowning. "Back then I was too busy trying to survive."

"Well, I do. It was two years before Superman made his identity public. The same year Clark Kent and Lois Lane went to work at the Daily Planet. And one year after I died."

Her eyes shot open as she recoiled slightly. "I'm... I'm sorry, sir? What's that?"

Lex's hands raised, folding in front of his face. "I don't have all the pieces, Mercy, but this is what I know. My presence, either as a part of LuthorCorp or in the greater world, is a part of written and online record of history up until the year before the Blur arrives. For three years I'm absolutely missing. Heir to one of the most powerful corporations in the world, a billionaire, and for some reason the media can't find one photo of me for three years? Not a word out of me?" His hand slammed down onto the table. "This is the same time when Oliver Queen tried to merge with LexCorp and take it for himself. Do you think I would have allowed anything remotely like that if I'd been around?"

"No sir, but to say you died..."

"Where is Oliver Queen right now, Mercy?"

"Uh, I don't know, sir. Star City?"

"Then why was he in Metropolis for so long?"

She was beginning to cringe, unsure of where Lex was going with all of this. "Mr. Luthor, I'm sorry, I don't have the answers for any of this."

Lex steadied himself, taking a deep breath as he brought his voice back under control. "Oliver Queen spent years active in Metropolis. He's now in Star City. Who's the hero of Star City?"

"The Green Arrow, sir."

"Who was also present here in Metropolis at the exact same time, there are surveillance records of his presence. It could be coincidence but I have a hard time believing that. Maybe it's a personal bodyguard of his, I couldn't tell you. What I do know is that he was active here at the same time as the Blur. Since then, we know Superman and Green Lantern have been active together at times. Oliver Queen is married to Chloe Sullivan, who is cousins with Lois Lane, who is married to Clark Kent. Lois is the person most commonly associated with Superman, as she was with the Blur, while Clark's coverage of people with super powers goes all the way back to his days in high school. You can search the archives of the Smallville Torch and find that out for yourself. All of these people were associating for years before Superman became public, during a time when I was in Smallville, were affiliated with an unknown hero in Smallville and then the Blur in Metropolis, and yet I'm the only one with no memory of my history there? I'm the one who's had Superman interrupt project after project while I was heading LexCorp, or Lois Lane harassing me at every step I take. While Oliver Queen once tried to take my company?" His eyes flared as he grit his teeth. "It's a damned circle, all of them. All of them!" His face shot aside, staring into the burning fires of the hearth, arms folding tightly across his chest as he tried to regain his composure. "I'm... sorry, Mercy. I hope you can understand my frustration."

She lingered, unable to respond for a second, watching as Lex's features danced with the flames, their light casting shadows across his face. Over the years her feelings toward her had shifted in several respects, and it wasn't easy to pin down how she felt about him. On a pure, animalistic level, there was no denying Lex was attractive, but that wasn't enough to win the affections of a woman like her. Rather, it was his drive, passion and charisma that truly charmed her. She'd met many rich men in her lifetime. Lex was different from all of them.

"Mr. Luthor. Lex," she finally began, only slowing beginning to speak. "I know that you've struggled with your past. You don't know why your memory is gone. I don't know either, Lex, I wasn't around when you were in Smallville. What I know is that there's always been a reason behind what you do, and what's happened to you. Your destiny has always been big. I don't doubt that, whatever the reason is your memory is gone, it isn't by accident, and one day you're going to get those memories back. Then you'll really be able to move forward."

"The thing that's really bothering me right now, the thing eating at me..." He glanced away, toward the door into the dining area. "Do you remember when those new reports came out about Superman just yesterday? About how he saved Smallville and Metropolis on the same day?"

"Pretty standard fare for red and blue, sir. It's a rare day when he's not making headlines."

"Did you pay attention to the order in which he went about his business? Where he went first?"

"No sir, I didn't pay close enough attention."

His fingers jammed downward onto the table. "Smallville, Mercy. Smallville. He went to Smallville before he went to Metropolis. He avoided saving his home city, his great and glorious Metropolis, to save Smallville. He was there, I'm almost sure of, years ago. I might not be able to piece it all together, but one way or the other, I'm going to get to the truth." His eyes dropped low as he continued. " Two days, Mercy."

She cocked an eyebrow at him. "Sir?"

"In two days, I'll know where this is all heading."

"Oh."

"I have a few plans in the mix, to get back what I lost. You know that though."

She smiled. "Of course, Mr. Luthor."

He paused a moment, running a hand across his jaw as he stared across the table at her. "Mercy. I want to have dinner on Thursday. Thanksgiving."

She nodded, her hand moving to her coat pocket, already withdrawing a notepad. "Of course Mr. Luthor. Where would you like me to schedule it?"

He shook his head, a slight smiled on his face. "No, Mercy. I don't want you to schedule me a dinner. I want to have dinner."

"I 'm afraid I don't understand, sir."

He leaned forward, sighing. "Mercy. Don't make me beg. I want you to join me for dinner."

She looked at him, confused. "Aren't we having...?"

"Mercy, come on." He shook his head. "Is this high school? I want to have a dinner date. Something romantic, you know, like normal people are supposed to have. Do you realize I haven't been out with a woman in years if it hasn't been for a photo op or a gala event?"

"Oh!' She suddenly snapped to, realizing what was being asked. "Um, of course, sir. Lex." she shook her head, suddenly pressing out the wrinkles from her suit dress. "Ah, yeah, I'd love to."

"Don't get too sentimental on me, now. You've still got a job to do, so best to focus on that for the meantime. Just keep this in your back pocket for now."

* * *

Bruce adjusted the headpiece of his suit, fitting it into place. It was a modified version of the helmets they'd produced for the U.S. military years before, and he had a reserve stock of the things that numbered into the hundreds. He figured that would be enough to last him a lifetime, if he managed to live long, and even if he didn't they could go to his heir. If he had an heir, and if he even wanted his heir to know about the Batman identity.

"You look smashing, sir," Alfred said as he descended the staircase, arriving just behind the young billionaire. "There's not a day that goes by that I feel inadequate with you trouncing about with your body armor and cape on."

"That sounds like sarcasm, Alfred."

"Ah, you truly are the world's greatest detective," he said with a small grin.

"Funny." Bruce took a deep breath as he adjusted his gloves, glancing them over a long, lingering moment. "I wanted to ask you something, Alfred."

"Yes, sir?"

He hesitated a moment, only looking back to Alfred after a long pause. "Who inspires this city more. Me, or my father?"

Alfred stared at Bruce for a moment, frowning. It was rather absurd, a man dressed as a bat asking such a question just an hour until midnight, but there it was. Not that he took the question likely. "That's hard to say, Master Bruce. You and your father, quite obviously, do things in entirely different ways."

"What did he do that I don't?"

He cocked his head, searching for words. "Your father was able to stand in the sun. He inspired people to good through his hospitals, schools, and overall generosity. However, he was the hero Gotham needed at the time, before all this madness of the Joker, Penguin and the like. He was who he needed to be for this city, and you are what you need to be. You protect Gotham from its own insanity by keeping checks on the criminals that parade endlessly out of Arkham Asylum, among other places."

Bruce nodded, glancing slightly away. "He stood in the light, did he?" He took a step toward the massive computer built into the wall of the cavern. "Would Gotham be better off with someone like Superman, Alfred? Someone who steps out of the darkness?"

"Good heavens, sir, you are sentimental today," he replied, taking a step behind his longtime companion. "You know as well as I that we all could use a man that can stop bullets with his chest and breathe so hard he can put out a fire. To truly address your question though, Master Wayne, I don't think it would do Gotham an ounce of good to lose the Batman. You can build as many schools and medical clinics as you like, but they'd do no good if the Joker was given free rein to make the city his toy chest. A school is only worth something as long as it doesn't get blown up, after all," he noted, moving past Bruce's shoulder to look him in the eyes. "Your father would be proud of the man you've become, and never doubt that. This city attracts criminals like light draws flies, but you don't turn off the light to get rid of the flies. That defeats the point. Gotham can be a place of light again, Master Bruce, but it will require the resolve of people like you and others to make it so." He paused a second before adding one thing more. "Although it might be beneficial for you if you did, indeed, try and get out to see the fruit of your work once in a while. The Wayne Foundation shouldn't just be a name you're acquainted with. There are many people who genuinely benefit from the work it does throughout the city.

Batman nodded, taking a look toward the exit route of the cave, the Batmobile ready for use. "Sorry Alfred. Thanksgiving is here and.. words were said, during the board meeting, that made me think."

"Quite dangerous of you, sir. You should really reserve that for Mr. Fox."

"You're just full of jokes today, aren't you, Alfred?"

"I do have my good days, sir."

Batman turned away, acting offended, but harboring a smile Alfred knew he had drawn. "Set a meal out for me tonight. I'll be hungry by the time I get back in."

"Of course, sir. It will be waiting for you in the kitchen, and of course you'll find me in my quarters if you need me when you return. Some of us like getting to bed before midnight, after all."

As Batman turned, readying to move to his vehicle, he paused, head ticking upward as his ears strained at a sound so quiet few would have picked up on it. Alfred watched his employer curiously, taking a half step forward as he looked in the same direction as Bruce. "Sir? Is something wrong?"

"Nothing wrong," Batman assured him, turning to assure Alfred from over his shoulder. "But we are about to have an uninvited guest," Bruce growled, waving Alfred off. "Get inside. It's nothing dangerous, but it is something I have to attend to.:

"Of course sir," Alfred replied with a half bow, stepping away toward the stairs leading back up to Wayne Manor. "Do let me know if you need anything."

Batman nodded, taking a step forward as he focused on the noise coming from the distant end of the cavern. What was a dull drone in the distance was increasing to a roar, and Bruce waited impatiently. He had things to get done tonight, and this was going to be a distraction. Within seconds an image was emerging out of the distance, a lone man in flight rushing onward through the Batcave, his red cape flapping in the wind. In the black and grey decorum of the Batcave, Superman stood out, a man out of his element. Then again, Superman could survive in an almost infinite number of environments, so perhaps there was no real element he was good in.

The red and blue figure tilted upward, settling to a stop just a foot in front of the Batmobile, his boots clicking on the metal grating that formed the road out of the cave and led onto the roads outside. As much as he hated to admit it, there was always something impressive about the way Superman carried himself, even compared against a dozen other people capable of flight. Their careers had begun almost at the same time, along with an increasing number of super heroes populating the world, but in many ways this was the figure they were all matched against. It wasn't hard to see why when you considered that, early in his career, Clark had essentially moved a small moon. That notion, and the sheer strength, required, couldn't be undersold. The weight of the thing must have been in the area of eighty billion tons.

"Bruce," Superman said as he walked upward, smiling, that warm Kansas smile that seemed to decorate everything he did. "Good to see you."

"You couldn't have called?"

"Not about this. Besides, if I had, would you have answered?"

Batman offered a rare smile to his occasional partner. He liked to keep Superman on his toes. Clark was obviously the strongest of all of them, but his giving nature and willingness to see the best everyone, admirable as it was, worked against him from time to time. Luthor was only one example of that. "I'm about to go out on patrol. You've got five minutes."

"This might take a little longer than that."

"Then you'd better sell me on this, quick."

Superman nodded, pointing to the computer in the background. "Might need to use that thing."

Batman lifted two fingers to his temple, tapping softly. "Let's start by using this thing, first."

Superman shook his head, smile still not fading. "Fair enough."


	10. Chapter 10: Consider Now Metropolis

**Chapter 10**

_"The people of Earth are capable of great things, both the most amazing and noble endeavors as well as the most selfish and despicable. They are not unlike our people in that way. However, Krypton lived for hundreds of thousands of years, and still fell because it could not find its path. You, my son, must show them the way. Into you have I placed the genetic heritage of each Kryptonian. Your future is one of unlimited potential, and as you grow, the best of every Kryptonian that ever might have lived will find an expression in you. Incredible strength, flight, and powers beyond the imagining of Earthlings is destiny. The Core of Krypton is in you. However, for all your powers, your greatest strength will be in the manner by which you conduct yourself, and inspire others to the same. Never forget the mistake we made, Kal-El. Lead by force, and you will ruin Earth's people. They will either come to slavishly worship you, or resent you with an everlasting hatred, fearful of your power and angered by your deeds. Lead them to a day when the world will no longer need supermen. Be a shining example of all that they, themselves, can be."_

_-Jor-El_

Batman had never feared Clark, or worried that he would turn against him. Clark had never given him a reason to believe that would happen. That didn't mean he hadn't prepared for a day when, for whatever reason, Superman lost control. Early on in their acquaintance, he'd put his vast intellect and resources into research Clark's time in Smallville, and had drawn some conclusions he felt were beyond criticism, among them that Kryptonite was a potent poison to Superman's Kryptonian DNA, though he wasn't entirely sure why. It wasn't exactly easy getting skin samples off of Clark, after all. Bruce wasn't the only genius intellect in the country however and others, by various means, had come to the same conclusion as he had. Lex Luthor, in various guises, had warred with Superman over the years leading into his presidency and always come out clean. Consistent in his most lethal devices, however, was the presence of Kryptonite radiation.

He had theories, of course. Superman's strength was so incredible that it couldn't be sustained on food alone. In fact, Clark had often talked about not having to eat for days at a time. He did get hungry, just not often, and never felt compelled to eat out of the starvation instinct a human would. It meant he had to draw his energy from other sources. Whatever fueled him, it wasn't food, and given that Kryptonite's energy signature had such a disrupting effect on Clark's biology, he could only assume that Clark absorbed energy from his surrounding environment. Kryptonite's effect were rather immediate though, and wore off almost immediately after it was removed from his presence, which indicated that it didn't disrupt his ability to draw energy or his energy reservoirs, but that instead it collapsed his body's ability to use it. It was akin to shutting down the cells in one's body.

"So what have you got Clark," he asked, his voice tense. He liked the guy well enough, but was more than irked that he'd felt so entitled that he could arrive unannounced, or that he didn't seem bothered that he was taking time away from Bruce's patrol. "And I'm serious. Five minutes."

"You got it. See, lately I've been working on this case..."

"Three way city connection between Star City, Metropolis and Gotham. Yeah, Lois filled me in on the details. Yeah, Lois filled me in on the details."

"Lois... came to see you?"

"She certainly doesn't care that I spend my evenings wearing heavy duty kevlar armor and riding in military grade transports. Neither do you, apparently."

"Hey, Bruce, I'm serious."

Batman grit his teeth. "So am I."

"There's a ton of details coming together but I'm still not sure how it all fits."

"I'm not surprised."

Superman finally dropped the smile, eyes narrowing as he looked at his comrade. "Look. Don't insult me, alright? I'm here to run some things through you because I respect you and the time you commit to your detective work. I admire it, as much as I admire any of your other skills and the discipline you carry yourself with. I respect you. All I want you to do is at least pretend you respect me too."

For a moment Bruce didn't know how to respond. Clark was right, after all. He might have had some entitlement issues, but he generally didn't go around trying to exert himself upon others. "Okay Clark," he finally said, exhaling. "Maximus Delivery Company is running a three way route around between the cities shipping high tech equipment and employing low level ex cons in all the deliveries. I was actually on my way out to investigate..." He waved a hand toward his vehicle. "...When you showed up."

"Maximus is also shipping food behind all three cities and I'm not making the connection. I found out that Miles Agriculture, which is based out of Smallville, uses them. The crops they grow are genetically enhanced to react to chemicals in unique ways, so they're essentially resistant to pesticides. I just don't understand how they go together."

Bruce looked over his shoulder, to his computer. "You say they've been engineered. Tampered with, for reaction with chemicals?"

"Right. Miles Agriculture is a front for a scientist here in Gotham City named Mr. Jack White, who developed the crop and now makes all the profits off the food, the shipping, the weapons deliveries."

"You have no idea who Jack White is, do you?"

Clark shook his head. "Should I?"

"Not unless you spend more time in Gotham City than you've been letting on," he replied as he took a few steps away, pacing slowly. "Jack White is also a little used alias of the Joker, one of at least a hundred he goes by when he's fronting a company. This next bit shouldn't surprise you, considering what you know already, but the Joker is a genius level chemist and has done more than a little work in genetic splicing. He got into it a few years ago after a stint in Arkham Asylum, when he became interested in the mixture of Joker toxin, Venom and their effects on the plants that Poison Ivy uses. The results of those chemical mixtures made the plants grow to incredible sizes and exhibit a lethality unusual even for Ivy." He paused, looking somewhat distracted as he worked through the information. "Do you know how big Miles Agriculture has gotten?"

"Yeah, it's one of the biggest suppliers of food products in the U.S."

"Which means that there are plenty of people walking around that have at one point or another consumed food engineered by the Joker," Batman replied, voice tensing as he continued his line of logic. "Why? What's he done to them? And why is he specifically trying to hire men that have spent time in prison?"

"There's another thing," Clark interjected, starting to grow concerned. "You say Lois came to you."

"Two days ago."

"The last time I hear from her was early yesterday. She didn't check in with me last night or today, and while that's not unusual when she's heavy into a case, the fact that the Joker is involved in this... well obviously that makes me edgy."

"Understandable."

"We have to find her, Bruce."

Batman shook his head, moving closer to Superman. "No, I have to find her. I understand why you want to help, but you're just too..." He looked his friend up and down, frowning. "Well, you're not very subtle, to put it mildly. If she did get mixed up with Joker, then even the slightest sign of you coming around will make him lash out. I'm the one that's good sneaking around, so leave that part to me. Besides, I have a couple of leads I'm already going to be pinning down. I'll follow this trail as long as it goes, and get back to you when I have something. Your place is in Metropolis anyway."

"If you were anyone else asking me to leave, I'd have a hard time saying yes," he said, obviously displeased. "But I trust you, Bruce, as much as I trust anyone. I consider you one of my best friends."

He shook his head. "That's going to get you killed one day."

A slight smile returned to his face. "Trust? I'd rather live a short life trusting others than a long way keeping people at a distance."

"That's admirable Clark, but you don't seem to get it. This isn't about your family life or keeping friends. You're too important to lose, and you don't seem to get that if you weren't around, there'd be a lot more trouble and problems and our biggest weapon would be gone. Get yourself killed and a lot of people will end up dying in the long run. You may not see it that way, but you need to learn to."

"I appreciate what you're saying Bruce," he said with a nod, "But if I lived my life that way, would I be who I am?" he asked, gesturing to the symbol on his chest. "I learned a long time ago that setting an example was the best thing I can do for others. I'm okay with that. Everything I do means nothing if I don't at least try to show people that you can live life in the sun, with hope, and without fear."

Batman let slip a disgusted grunt. "You always were the blue boyscout."

"Proud Eagle Scout," he returned with a three finger salute of the Boy Scouts.

"You're... you're serious?"

"What? You weren't?"

Bruce paused for a long time before saying anything more. "I thought I was joking."

* * *

_"Oracle, go," _came the voice of Barbara Gordon over the earpiece implanted in Batman's headpiece. Shortly after she'd retired in her role as Batwoman, Barbara had volunteered to stay on, helping Batman mainly through data collection and coordination on cases. The computer system she'd developed was among the most advanced in the world, directly connected to the one in his cave, and allowed for real time data transference to the transparent eyepieces that were set within his headpiece. Her memory was so accurate she could read multiple newspapers daily and remember them detail for detail, and taken as a whole, she'd been a massive reason behind his successes in solving various cases throughout the city.

"Oracle, it's me."

_"Really? Because I get call this late from other men."_

"I swear it's your and Alfred's day to play comedian," he quipped as stared down on the Maximus Delivery warehouse from his perch atop a nearby building. "I need the plans on the Maximus warehouse in the old port section of Gotham."

_"Be just a minute."_

"I've got time," he said as he leaned forward, spreading his arms wide and allowing his cape to flex as he dropped off the edge of the building, his body plummeting forward for only a second before the air currents caught his cape, buoying him as he glided forward, plunging toward the rooftop. He might not have had Superman's ability to fly, but that didn't mean he couldn't at least float once in a while. The rooftop of the facility was rushing at him, the display in his vision providing an optimal trajectory for him to follow as he careened onward to his destination. As the edge of the roof began to pass beneath him he brought his feet forward, jogging along a few steps until his momentum halted, the cape returning to its normally soft material.

_"You still there?"_

"Yes. Just had a drop in somewhere. What have you got?"

_"Nothing too complicated. Three level floor plan I'm forwarding to you right now."_

"There's something wrong about this place," he commented in return, assessing the rooftop doorway. "I'm not seeing any electronic wiring running from the door, which means it's not being secured through any electronic detection. That's not only a sloppy way to deter theft, it's also illegal. The rooftop access should have, if nothing else, an alarm wired for emergency exits, to alert emergency personnel like medics and firemen. This is a city code violation that I'd think a company like Maximus, with its profit level, would be willing to take care of."

_"Not trying to be snarky here, but I didn't realize we were working for city code enforcement."_

"We're not, but it indicates that this building isn't all that it seems," he said as he delivered a swift kick to the door, which flew open beneath the blow. "I'm heading inside. You scan the police frequencies. While I'm sure there aren't any alarms, the Batvision isn't fullproof. There might have been wiring it missed."

_"You got it."_

As he crept within, heading down the stairwell and emptying out onto the top floor, his ears remained attuned to every sound that came from the area, his eyes shifting through the darkness. Though the infrared, ultraviolent and FLIR vision in his eyepieces allowed him to see across the entire electronic spectrum, he preferred to use his own two eyes and, as necessary, the night vision. It fit him best, and considering the darkness of the hallways, he needed assistance for the moment. There were no office lights on at any of the doors, no computer monitors lit from inside, and not even minimal lighting maintained in the hallway. The office was entirely abandoned.

"Look like nobody has worked here in a long time," he grumbled, passing around the corner, his eyes glancing from office door to office door. "Though I seem to have found the lair of Mr. Jack White."

_"Joker's gone legitimate and opened a shipping business?"_

"That would alleviate too many of my problems to ever be a reality. I wish he would go straight," Bruce continued as he moved forward to the doorway, feeling at the handle. "It's not even locked."

_"Suspicious."_

"Agreed." Without another word he stepped within, eyes scanning the area, his eyepieces immediately switching through the visual spectrum several times to clue him in on anything suspicious inside. Glancing around, the most immediate piece of evidence was the playing card that lay on the floor just in front of the desk. "Are you getting hits?" he asked as he leaned down to retrieve it. Beyond providing him enhanced vision, the eyepieces also allowed a constant transmission of what he was seeing back to Oracle. "It's a playing card."

_"Let me guess what's on the other side."_

Batman flipped it around, staring at its face. "A Joker."

_"So that means he really has been running things at Maximus."_

He shook his head. "I'm not so sure. I believe he's involved, but this is all a bit too... simple for the Joker. What's the punchline? Besides..." he said as he tapped the card on his knee. "When was the last time you knew Joker to use a generic playing card at the scenes of his crime."

_"You're absolutely right. Joker uses a customized deck he hand makes."_

"Exactly. He hasn't used a generic deck in years. Somebody's just trying to make it look like Joker was here." He paused, getting back to his feet, eyes still scanning the area. "Somebody knows that Joker's alias is Jack White. That's why we're seeing his name pop up so many places, because they knew when the evidence came together, Joke would be the immediate target. Let's consider what we know. He's been missing for a year, but Maximus has existed for years. So has Miles Agriculture. Whatever's going on, Joker didn't put a plan into motion four years ago, just to vanish this year to start pushing the plan to success. That's a long range gambit with too many variables. It really doesn't seem like Joker's style."

_"But someone did want you to think Joker's been active in Gotham again."_

"It's a complicated plan. Whoever investigated Jack White would come to Gotham to track him down, which is why Lois was in town. At the same time, the thought that Joker might be involved would keep me in Gotham, too."

_"What are you saying?"_

He stepped forward, hands moving over the desk, running through the many drawers as he searched for any other evidence. "I'm starting to wonder if Joker's in Gotham at all. There's no reason to leave an evidence trail that purposely give away your position, so this has been a distraction to keep me here, as well as anyone looking for White." He stood up, looking back at the door. "The engineered food is coming out of Metropolis, though. Why would any of us pay attention to a farming business when there's a massive shipping company here that's moving advanced weapon's parts under the supervision of ex cons? What's more likely to catch our attention?" His eyes narrowed as he sighed. "The Joker's not here in Gotham."

_"So does that mean you need to go to Metropolis?"_

"That's the really genius part of this. Think of this as a really elaborate chess game. In chess, you don't always make a move to take your opponent's piece off the board. Sometimes you make a move that's intended to force your opponent into a bad move, or to pin him down. At the moment, I'm pinned down, because of Lois. Our enemy knew no matter what, there's no way I'd leave Gotham to pursue the Joker once I realized she was in danger."

There was a long silence on the other end as Barbara gathered her thoughts, processing everything he said. _"Batman... who are we dealing with here?"_

"I'm still not sure. Someone with the ability to plan highly advanced plots and the patience to wait years for them to develop."

_"Not too many that fit that bill. Bane and Slade are both incredibly intelligent, master tacticians."_

"Right, and we're both aware of Doctor Hurt's long term planning capabilities."

_"Don't remind me. Would you include Ra's al Ghul?"_

"He certainly has the patience, considering his claims of immortality, but I'm not sure it's his style. Then again, we have no idea why Maximus is running food shipments in addition to tech. I think we should check out some of Miles' produce and put it through some testing, just to see what sort of modifications were made to the plants."

_"I'll have some shipped over to the cave immediately and get to work on it. After everything you've said though, are you still sure the Joker's involved?"_

"Even if he wasn't originally behind Miles Agriculture, their produce is grown using experiments he did. At some point he got involved, now we just need to understand when and how. Still, I'm more than willing to be that's why he's been missing for a year."

_"This is getting complicated."_

"The planning is sophisticated, there's no doubting that. Anyway, I'm going to keep looking around here to see what I can find out."

_"Sounds good. Check in soon."_

The signal clicked over into standby mode as he began to examine his surroundings. There were some final details he hadn't mentioned, but that he was now mulling over as he examined the office. First was the fact that regardless of Joker's involvement, Maximus, Miles and these numerous companies competing with Wayne Enterprises for defense contracts had all been established simultaneously a few years before. Second was the fact that it was LexCorp technology being shipped around between cities. Finally, it had been pressure from the government that had kept him distracted and limited the effectiveness of the Batman over the past year, a time period during which Joker also went missing. Those were worrisome commonalities.

His attention was caught as he scanned the floor, the full spectrum goggles highlighting the faint sign of pressure that had registered on the ground, slight traces of soil and bits of petals deeply embedded in the carpet. Removing a small glass vial from his belt, he scraped up the traces and tucked the vial away once more. If this was the only clue he founds at Maximus, it would be the only one he needed. He'd find Lois just on this flimsy clue if he had to. He shook his head as he contemplated what would happen if anything truly bad happened to her, what sort of effect it would have on Superman. It was never sane to purposely antagonize a god.

* * *

By the time he arrived back at the cave, nighttime was already turning into day, but Bruce had no time for rest. It was Thanksgiving Eve, and he had a terrible feeling that something was about to go down. True to her word, Oracle had immediately shipped over a small set of produce for him to work on. With both the genetics of the plants needing analyzing and the soil and petals needing work as well, he both set them running through the computer's analytical systems while he reclined in his chair. With nothing else left for him to do, he allowed himself a moment of rest as the computer's systems worked through its analysis.

He wasn't entirely sure how long it was, perhaps an hour or two, before a subtle alarm began to ring off from the computer. His eyes shot open, his body tensing and going into action, as if he'd never fallen asleep in the first place, his highly trained mind able to brush off fatigue in a moment. As he read the reports, fingers moving across the keys in front of him, he frowned. "The petals are Monarch Lilies, and the soil has been enriched. Definitely high moisture content, indicative of an area near the river. Considering that Maximus warehouse is off the bay and adjacent to Gotham River, it may be safe to assume that whoever was in the area, came from directly up river." He brought up a may, examining the course of the river, going through a list of targets. "Unsurprisingly the Gotham Botanical Gardens and Arboretum are located up river, where they conducted experiments and did scientific research on various plant life." Batman's fingers paused a moment over the keys. "Of course, Jack White invested a significant amount of money into at least one project there a few years ago."

With a shake of his head he got up from the chair, approaching the produce that had been sent over, little more than a few heads of lettuce, cabbage and carrots. The results also demonstrated that their genetic structure had been altered, in key, similar ways, but the result of which he was unsure of. Still, if Joker was attached to this, there were a few pet chemicals he enjoyed using in his wilder games. Batman wondered what would happen if he introduced them to the plant life and, scooping them up, took them over to a nearby glass enclosure, no larger than the size of a baby incubator. The digital display to the side would provide real time results from the plants as he introduce different chemicals to their environment, monitoring cellular activity as the plants responded to environmental changes. Sliding a few leave of lettuce and cabbage inside, he sealed the chamber shut, hand moving over the display and keying in a command. He'd start with all the usual suspects. Joker toxin had no effect on plant life under normal circumstances, but he wondered what would occur with these modified forms of plants. Meanwhile, he'd set the computer toward doing a deeper genetic analysis than what it had already completed. He needed to find out what the impact of these plants on a human system would be once consumed, because in the end, Joker wasn't shipping food around three of the largest cities in the United States just because he wanted to help feed the poor. Rubbing at his eyes for just a moment as he readied himself for a long day, he released the first of the chemical agents, a green mist filling the small glass enclosure and saturating it, a dynamic display of cellular activity forming on the screen next to him. "Experiment number one, 4:32 A.M. he said aloud to the recorder that monitored these projects. "Joker toxin."


	11. Chapter 11: Thanksgiving Eve

**Chapter 11**

_"I want everyone in this room to pay very close attention to what I am about to say, because this is the most important discussion that we will ever have in this room concerning the source of Superman's strength. Where do you think it comes from, would you say? Consider his body, his physicality. Impressive by any standards, the equal of any elite Olympian or professional sports player, but can he actually have the physical muscle fibers capable of pushing 80 billion tons off course? That's absurd. The fact that we have, for so long, bought into the notion that Superman's physical strength is the result of physical differences, whether mutated human biology or alien biology, shows just how little we've understood about him up until this point. Let's not be too hasty in underestimating his physicality, of course. His biology and physical stature make him an extraordinary opponent in hand to hand combat, but one that could be defeated, if not for the fact that his powers exceed the abilities of physics to explain. I know you're all confused, so let me go one step further. One of Superman's first appearances involved stopping an airplane from colliding into the ground. That plane was moving at hundreds of miles per hour when he made contact with it, and was able to set it down onto the ground. At contact, why did he not plow through the center if he really is a man of steel? What material on the planet could strike an airplane at that speed and not tear through it? Physics doesn't pick and choose who it wants to apply to, gentlemen. On other occasions he's been seen holding things in the air that should have fallen apart due to the structural stress of being elevated. They didn't though. Can you guess why?"_

_- Lex Luthor_

12:00 P.M., November 27

Clark was juggling so many issues in the air right now he didn't entirely know where to apply his focus. Lois was gone, but Batman was looking into that. There was still the issue of determining what was in the food that Maximus was shipping, not to mention figuring out why they were weapons everywhere. He had other personal problems, like having to head out to the farm to help his parents as they'd begun packing their things to leave Smallville. On top of it all he'd been putting time into looking at any connections these defense contractors might have had, which had meant looking in detail at LexCorp's records over the last few years, and especially the last year. Clark had been willing to concede Miles was just playing the part of greedy junior executive working for employers he barely understood, but Marcus Tyson, current president of LexCorp, could be afforded no such luxury. He'd been an aggressive businessman for years before he was hired by Lex, and from what he could tell, Tyson had done his share of shady business in Gotham and Bludhaven before ever making the move to Metropolis, a wealthy and aggressive individual that was rumored to have started pushing in on Intergang's illicit businesses while he made a name for himself in the corporate world. Of course he'd caught Lex's attention and, never one to waste talent, Lex had picked him up as a right hand man at the company.

Clark had to admit, being back at the LexCorp building wasn't exactly his favorite experience in the world. The top floors, where Lex's old office was, had been remodeled to perfectly replicate those at the old Luthor Corp building. Bathed in colds colors of blue, black and grey, it always felt like a sad and lonely place, one divorced from emotions and feelings. Even in the old days, when he and Lex had been friends, Clark had hated to visit on him at the Luthor Corp Tower. He'd much preferred the mansion, which was bathed in warm colors, stained glass windows and decorated with inviting hues like rich red carpets and fine oak finishing on the doors. LexCorp, in stark contrast, was a soulless husk of a building.

"You wanted to see me," Tyson asked, staring at Clark from his seat behind the desk. The windows at his back that looked down on the city automatically adjusted for incoming light, dimming so that even here, on the top floor, the full light of the sun only marginally penetrated within. It necessitated the artificial lights that lined the ceiling, and he felt uncomfortable as he stood there before the desk. "I hear the Daily Planet is interested in investigating LexCorp. Easy enough, considering your backing from Wayne Enterprises, but a fruitless endeavor."

"Maybe, but one I'm making anyway," Clark replied, firmly. Obviously he wasn't intimidated by Tyson, a man who didn't realize the strength Clark possessed. Still, this new president of the company was a behemoth of a human specimen, seven feet tall, his narrow eyes, hardened jaw and caramel features a stark contrast to Luthor. Tyson was as big as men came, all muscle, and obviously much of his confidence came from his intimidating presence. Clark wasn't impressed.

"So tell me what the intrepid reporter, Clark Kent, has uncovered."

"Hardy Technology. Foger Tech. Intrepid Tech. Livingston Futures. Dyson Tomorrow. Carrington and Carros. Do any of those names ring a bell?"

Tyson shrugged, his face blank. "No. Should they?"

"That's what I'm here to find out. All of those companies, and many more, were established at nearly the same time, just a year before Lex took office."

"You're boring me."

"At the time they weren't anything important, but over the last year each of them has won weapon contracts that LexCorp and Wayne Enterprises both lost. A significant amount of contracts and money, by the way."

"So?" he asked, holding a hand out. "That's the spirit of the American entrepreneur."

"All of these companies sprang out of nowhere with significant funding, They're all developing weapons for the government, using LexCorp parts. LexCorp is selling to its competitors in order to lose out on big government contracts? Not to mention these facilities are being guarded by men armed with LX-100s, weapons so expensive local law enforcement needed to get them as donations."

"My my my," Tyson said as he leaned forward, resting his chin in between his elevated hands, "You have been doing quite the investigative work, Mr. Kent. I hope you have a pretty bow to tie all those insinuations together."

"The last quarter on the stock market, Wayne Enterprise's profit declarations were down due to their loss of their contracts. In the same time frame, LexCorp declared that even with the loss of contracts, profits were up from the previous year. How is it possible to lose those contracts and still increase profits? Well, if your corporation is fronting satellite companies that divert profits back to LexCorp, it's easy to see. When you take a close look at all those places LexCorp claims its profits were up, there's an endless shuffling of money from other sources, over and over, and the reason is because the money's coming in from dozens of undeclared external sources into low level LexCorp projects that nobody would normally bother scrutinizing. Do I have your attention now, Mr. Tyson?"

"Indeed Mr. Kent," he replied, taking in a deep breath as he processed everything Clark had to say. "So, let's assume you're right. Let's assume that LexCorp has been fronting other companies. That might seem like a slight of hand, that might seem tricky, but there's nothing illegal about having subdivisions of a company. Either the money's coming in legally, or it's not, and the fact is the U.S. government is giving military developers all across the country plenty of money to create cutting edge weaponry. We are living in an age of men that can fly around the planet in a few seconds and women that can punch through walls. If Wayne Enterprises is being outcompeted, it's being outcompeted legally."

Clark scowled, taking a step forward. "We both know that LexCorp and Wayne Enterprises have been neck and neck in weapons development., but LexCorp couldn't keep bidding lower and lower and trying to undersell Wayne without weakening investor confidence. I also don't think that it's any surprise these companies were established before he took office, and not after. Be honest with me, Tyson. Lex is still running the show, isn't he?"

"If he was, you'd never be able to prove it."

"Then tell me one thing. Why the involvement with Maximus Delivery? Why hire these ex cons to staff your facilities, not to mention the deliveries? Why give people like that access to high tech weaponry?"

Tyson gestured toward the door, dismissive. "The only answer you'll get from me, Kent, is that I hope you have a good Thanksgiving Eve."

Clark glared at the man who, unflinching, simply stared back with a cold resolve. Realizing there was nothing he could do to get more out of him, Clark stepped away, hand reaching for the door. "Just so you know Tyson. Whatever it is you're planning, it won't work."

"Warn me again when you actually have an idea of what's going on."

* * *

3:00 P.M., November 27th

The night had been grueling, an evening of intense experimentation, gene splicing, and analysis. After running through dozens of chemical combinations and examining their affects on the Miles Agriculture produce, Bruce was finally nearing an end to his research. He felt slightly loopy, his vision blurring slightly, his muscles aching from long hours without rest. Yet he continued. The computer's analysis of the genetic changes to the food and their long term effects on human biology, and he was finally nearing his final, horrified conclusions.

"Something wrong Master Bruce?" Alfred asked as he set a plate of food down on the table adjacent to the cave's computer. "Besides the fact that you haven't slept in at least 24 hours."

"There's definitely something wrong, Alfred," he replied, his voice weary from his long hours of work. "At first I thought the modifications to these plants might produce some sort of effect when the plants themselves were subjected to various chemical agents. I was wrong."

"How do you mean, sir?"

"You can listen in while I talk to Clark about it," he replied, turning around in his chair as he activated the cellular connection in his headpiece. "It's an incredibly long term plan," he said as the connection dialed out, his head resting against the back of his chair.

_"Hello?" _came the gentle Midwestern voice on the other end.

"Clark. It's Bruce."

_"Oh uh... I thought you didn't want us having discussions over cellular signal?"_

"I'm routing this through a private Wayne Enterprises satellite and encrypting it at a high level. Consider yourself safe to speak. More importantly, I don't have the time to get into the Batwing and fly to Metropolis. Too much time, which is not something we have enough of right now."

_"This sounds serious," _Clark replied, his voice firming up. _"I'm guessing you've found out something?"_

"Yes. First of all, if you hadn't told me about Miles Agriculture, I would have stumbled on this too late. In that sense..." He paused, shaking his head as he continued. "I regret my choice of words earlier, implying you were unintelligent."

A chuckled came from the other end. _"It's as close to an apology as I've ever gotten from you. Must be really bad."_

"It is. The genetic engineering done to Miles produce has a consistent genetic trait that I've isolated. Originally I thought the game was meant to stimulate the vegetation itself, sort of like what Joker did with Poison Ivy's plants back on Arkham. However, that's not the case. The plants are nonreactive to any combination of chemicals introduced to their environment, at least in a meaningful way."

_"Okay. Then why go through the trouble of engineering this plant life with a meaningless genetic trait?"_

"That's just it," he said, turning slightly to look at what little produce he still had sitting on the table. "It's nonreactive outside the human body. Even when consumed, its effect is initially negligible, like a minute poison you would introduce to someone if you wanted to kill them, but had to do it slowly. Except these plants aren't going to kill anyone even if they'd been eating them every day their whole lives. The issue is this produce has gotten into markets, processed foods, on and on throughout Gotham, Metropolis and Star City. Over time, they cause slight alterations to the adrenaline gland that make it prone to overproduction when introduced to the appropriate catalyst, a chemical agent that I've isolated. It's a mixture of Joker toxin and Venom, a compound mixture that is inherently useless on the human system but that does have an effect on an adrenaline gland that is prone to overstimulation. There are two consequences to this."

"One," he continued, holding a finger up as he did so, "An average citizen that has been consuming foods tainted by this combination will gain mildly augmented strength as the Venom compound affects their physiology and inhibits the natural systems the brain imposes on our muscular usage in order to prevent injury. Venom already works with adrenaline to produce an aggressive response, so in the presence of the over stimulated gland it will work to increase the fight response in people. Even then, we could live with that. However, the modified properties of the Joker toxin will cause a variety of harmful physical effects, including typical symptoms such as fits of laughter, various forms of physical pain, and such. The combination of this is that the Joker toxin will stimulate panic, pushing the over stimulated gland into an overdrive that will cause the modified Venom to induce the aggression response in people, with the added bonus that they will no longer be able to even consciously control the level of force they exert in a punch."

"That's not all, though," he said, holding up a second finger. "This is all enough to set the groundwork for aggressive behavior in normal individuals. However, these foods, in the systems of criminals, produces a similar effect but many times more potent. Criminals that have previously been capable of violence often demonstrate an overactive adrenal gland and with the added introduction of this combination, will create men that are deranged, uninhibited and lethally violent. Those foods have been primarily shipped between Gotham, Metropolis and Star City. Remember who Maximus is hiring for its tech deliveries?"

_"Ex cons."_

"And guess who's got access to tons of cutting edge LexCorp weaponry at the moment?"

There was a long silence on the other end as Clark processed it all, before finally responding. _"Okay. You said that people require this Joker-Venom compound before they're capable of going on any violent streaks. So how does it get introduced?"_

"That's the one big problem. I don't know, but I have a bad feeling about tonight."

_"I do too, Bruce. I had a chance to talk with Marcus Tyson today, when I went by LexCorp to press him on the issue of its connection to the defense contracts issue. As I was leaving, he told me to enjoy my Thanksgiving Eve, but there was something in his voice. I got a sense he was threatening me."_

"Ominous. I wouldn't doubt it."

_"You know all three of these cities are having huge parades today. People are already gathered downtown."_

"Same here, in Gotham. I'll do what I can to keep an eye on things here, obviously, and I know you've got Metropolis. What have we got in Star City though?"

_"Green Arrow. Don't tell me you've already forgotten about him?"_

Batman growled. "More like I choose not to remember."

"Bruce. One more thing."

Batman didn't answer right away, knowing what the question was, and for the first time in many weeks, feeling a tinge of anxiety. "Yeah Clark."

_"Did you find anything about Lois?"_

Bruce shook his head, staring slightly toward the ground. "If it's any consolation, what I found at the crime scene doesn't indicate Joker's in Gotham. I actually think he might be in Metropolis. As soon as darkness falls, maybe two hours or so, I'm fairly sure I know where she is. I'll get her back."

_"I believe in you."_

"... I'll be in touch soon." He shut off the cellular connection, eyes flying toward the Batwing. "I need to get out there, Alfred."

* * *

4:00 P.M., November 2th

Oliver tucked a set of arrows into his quiver, rushing around his war room, which was hidden behind the office of his mansion. Quickly he was snatching weapons of all sorts from off the tables, tucking them into his belt, and sliding his Arrow Eyes down over his head and beneath his hood. He was in a nearly panicked state, his heart pounding away within his chest as he gathered up any number of items for that night. Most importantly, he grabbed for the portable gas mask that he'd used only sparingly through the years, but that he needed now more than ever. He only hoped it still worked after so much disuse.

"Ollie," a faint voice came from the doorway, his eyes shooting back to see Chloe at the entry into the war room. "So you're getting ready to go."

"Yeah, I sort of have to," he replied, fastening another item to his belt. "This is nothing to play around about, you know? There hasn't been something this big happening in Star City since... since..."

"It's been a while," she finished for him, sliding past the doorway and into the room, taking small steps toward him. "Clark sounded like he thought this was pretty serious."

"Big problem is figuring out who to stop, or how to stop this stuff from even getting into the air. I can target the criminals with guns no problem, but if everyone's going crazy..."

"Can the Green Arrow stop a hundred thousand people from turning on themselves?"

He lowered his head, the sheer numbers overwhelming. "If I don't try, who else will? That's why I'm carrying so much sedative with me tonight," he said, tapping all the pockets of his belt. "I just wish I knew how to get this delivered to that many people throughout downtown. How in the world is Joker planning to do that if he's not even in Star City."

Chloe nodded, a finger going to her chin. "Joker toxin is normally airborne, isn't it?"

"I've got no idea. I think so?"

Her hand slammed down into her fist. "Fireworks, Ollie. What about the fireworks?"

"You think that's it?" he asked, his face lighting up with some hope for the first time. "Okay, so, I go after the fireworks."

"I'll call the police and warn them to give it a look, and run it by Clark, too. The only problem is there are so many going off tonight, who knows just how much toxin it would take to cover the large of an area?"

"Not to mention that might not even be it," he said as he huffed, pulling his hood over his head. "I've got to get out there and do something, though. Certainly can't just sit around. If it's not on the fireworks, well, I'll figure out something else. It'll have to be released somehow, right?" He began to slip on the gasmask without a thought, only to be stopped as she grabbed his wrist, preventing him.

"Hey. Ollie."

He stared into her eyes, as in love with her as the day they'd married. "Yeah?"

She leaned in, giving him a long, tender kiss before letting him go, waving him on. "Go ahead. You can put the mask on now."

Oliver gave her one last smile as he pulled the mask down over his face, moving past her and toward the door, saying farewell with a final look. "I'll be careful."

"You'd better be."

* * *

5:00 P.M., November 27th

Downtown Metropolis was a flurry of activity as hundreds of thousands of people pushed their way into the heart of the city, the buildings of LexCorp Tower and the Daily Planet framing the skyline just above them, a cascade of glittering towers all lit up as the festivities were just now getting underway. Speakers lined the streets and blared out with rock music that was being carried from the central park that sat just off the city's main square, where just days before Superman had arrived to battle with the Toyman. Now the streets leading to and from the square were packed with enthusiastic revelers. Some came as families, their children grabbing anxiously at balloons that floated by, fathers and mothers holding lovingly to one another. Others came as partiers, cups of drinks in their hands. Some were old, from a passing generation, their heads balding and hair graying. Others were young, many college students from the local Metropolis University. All along ground level, large screens had been set up on each block, so that the ongoing television broadcasts would be sent throughout the parade route.

The live band at Metropolis Park was tearing into their guitars and drums, the night lit up with dazzling flashes of red, blue and purple strobes, great spotlights crisscrossing one another as their intense beams cut across the sky. At one end of the parade route the floats were already lined up, readying to push forward, great balloons of cartoon characters, symbols, brands, vehicles and iconic images gently bumping into one another as they drifted about on the current. Their drivers anxiously gripped at their wheels, waiting for the word to begin moving forward, though they waited patiently as news crews set up, tv broadcasters timed up the events with others happening across the country, and advertisers got their revenue ads from broadcasting one of the largest parades in the country. Far above, helicopters slowly hovered, passing circles around Metropolis square, the great LexCorp tower sitting directly at its center, rising far above all others. Ads from the company flashed across the screens in between images of the newscasters that were covering the festivities, their bodies wrapped in warm overcoats to combat the winter freeze.

Behind it all, unseen as he moved with great speed from building to building, Superman bolted from one tower to the next, eyes flying to the collections of rockets and fireworks that were set to go off midway through the night's events. At each stop, though, there was nothing. No sign of tampering, of foreign chemical agents that might do harm to the people below. He was growing ever more concerned. He was sure Batman was right, that everything was set up to go down tonight, but he couldn't find the one thing he needed to stop the oncoming disaster. The chemical agents were nowhere to be founds, and he was starting to doubt all the conclusions to come to. Of Arrow, Batman and himself, he might have had the most power in terms of sheer physical gifts, but the idea of having to face down hundreds of thousands of people in a panicked, violent state? There was little doubt that such a confrontation would inevitably cause harm.

His ears perked as the music of the concert suddenly halted, his head snapping to the far west end of the street, eyes keying on the floats, which were now beginning to move. The parade was starting. His face shot back, looking toward the next tower he'd targeted. He had to find those chemicals.

* * *

7:00 P.M., November 27th

Batman stood at the base of the great Gotham Arboretum and Gardens. Over the years it had seen ever more sporadic use, as repeat attempts by Poison Ivy to manipulate the plant life there had left too many researchers fearful that taking a job at the gardens meant a death sentence. She was secured in Arkham though, at least for the moment, and the gardens themselves weren't his target. At the center of the gardens was the old research tower that, for years, had been used mainly to support the work of researchers in the arboretum but that had also been a home for biotech research, genetic engineering, and a number of theoretical physics programs that had churned out some of the base concept Bruce had been trying to implement in ever more advanced versions of his tech.

The leaves beneath his boots crunched as he moved forward, the long limbs of the trees swaying gently in the green lights that lit up the evening, the stars far above shining between the rolling clouds. He knew that Gotham's parade was just getting underway, but he was following a trail, and a feeling, that it all came down to Monarch Tower. His cape danced around him as the breeze caught it in its grasp, and it almost took on a life of its own, swirling around him as he passed through the path that extended from the arboretum entrance to the massive gothic doors that emptied into the tower. This was a creation of a long ago architecture, in a style that blended the classic look of Gotham with one near to the architectural designs of Antoni Gaudi. It was a disgusting looking building, its cathedral like spires jutting out from different ends, its roof far above.

It was dark. It was imposing.

"Feels like home."


	12. Chapter 12: The Black Glove

**Chapter 12:**

_"Seriously, use your limited mental capacities for something. We've always thought Superman was physically strong, and while he is, he's not as strong as his feats might indicate, not in terms of sheer muscle mass. We've also always believed that Superman lacked any advanced telepathic or telekinetic abilities. I think it's time we reassess that assumption. The only way for him to accomplish some of these physical feats, to do what he does, is if the mass of his targets was somehow reduced. At the point of contact, when Superman touches an object, he alters it on a fundamental, quantum level. That power goes way beyond any sort of human mutation. That is a borderline reality warping capability, and it's the base of all his powers. No man has the lung capacity, for instance, to breathe with such ferocity that he shakes towers. Regardless of how strong his lungs are, it would require that he breathe in the equivalent of a hurricane force, and this from lungs that sit within a frame roughly the size of an average human being. There's simply not the room, the space, to take in that much air. What's he's doing is moving molecules. Superman doesn't fully know the source or extent of his powers, so he goes around using extraneous methods to execute his actions. That means as he gets older, he's only going to get stronger. One day he's going to figure out he doesn't need to take a deep breath to blow a wind through the trees. Hell, one day he'll figure out he doesn't even need to touch something to make it come to a stop, or lay a finger on someone to knock them flying backwards. He's going to evolve one day into something even stronger, and I need something to protect against that. What I'm proposing, gentlemen, is a weapon that fundamentally alters the mass of an area around it, a sort of field in which Superman's powers 'don't work', not because of some Kryptonite aura but because the device is actively altering the space around it, preventing Superman from exerting his reality altering powers within. Such a device would require a power greater than any we know of to fuel it. That doesn't mean we can't make it a reality."_

_-Lex Luthor_

Jonathan Kent and Martha Kent, weary from having spent so much time struggling with their home and the stresses of foreclosure had, at the last instant, decided they would take the evening out to go see the annual Thanksgiving Eve parade. Jon had taken out a small bit from their savings and purchased street level seats right in front of LexCorp tower, right where the parade would reach its zenith, and the two of them had left for Metropolis, excited for the first time in many weeks. They hadn't had a chance to see the parade in years and needed some way to relax, to get away from everything going on around them. The two of them were as excited about it as anything they'd done in years. Jon still looked at Martha like the old sweetheart he'd made of her decades before when he was still trapped thinking he was a dumb farm kid compared to her, a sophisticated young business woman from Metropolis. He'd initially resented her and all her work in the Smallville area, working as a secretary for Lionel Luthor, but somehow they'd sparked up a romance. A drink of coffee here, an argument about the value of his property there, and somewhere along the way she'd decided it was worth it to move out of the big city and into the small town. She'd never regretted it, or at least that's what she claimed, and there had been too many occasions like today when he was just happy to have a woman like her at his side.

They were getting older, and Jon's hair was showing tons of gray through his earlier dirty blonde hair, but he still had the muscle and strength of a man that had worked the farm for years. He gently but firmly led her forward, his broad frame pressing through the crowd as he did, people accommodating him as he passed between, leading her to the row of chairs that sat near the street, the two of them settling in as the festivities went into full blown partying around them. Performers led the way during the first stages of the parade, acrobats sprinting by, falling into tumbles, leaping through the air and dazzling with their great self control. Clowns leapt between them, juggling multicolored balls in the air, dashing up to children and handing out balloon animals that they created on the fly. Behind them, though, came the great floats, emptying out of the street and into Metropolis Square, where they would pass toward LexCorp Tower before moving onward down the next set of streets, continuing on the second leg of their journey and toward the end of the parade route.

City officials occupied the most regal floats, which were decked out in gold and silver trim with red and green lights flashing off the sides, music being pumped out from the speakers lining the streets while the massive jumbotron screen hoisted onto the side of the LexCorp tower continued showing images of the parades occurring in Gotham City and Star City. All of them were now in full swing, the great balloon floats carrying overly sized imitations of classic cartoon characters, whose bright smiles and massive forms sent children into fits of screaming and laughter. Jon looked to his side at a group of small girls who were dancing around in ecstatic circles as they saw some of their favorites drifting by.

"Remember when we brought Clark out here," he asked, placing an arm around Martha, who laid her head into his shoulder. "He was actually pretty scared of the floats the first time."

"Well he was always a bit frightened by things when he was young. Of course that was a long time before he... well, before he matured," she said with an amused smile. If only they had known what their son would become. They couldn't have dreamed it. "Those were good times though."

"Yeah," Jon agreed, looking around. "I just wish that Lois and Clark could have made it out tonight. I know they've got that investigation going, but it would have been nice to have them here. When I saw Clark earlier he wasn't very talkative. I think something's bothering him, just couldn't pry it out."

"Anytime he has to deal with Lex, he gets moody."

"That he does," he said with a nod, staring as the balloon floats settled into the square, pausing for a few minutes as the live music of the bands began to resonate out of the speakers again. The crowd roared, standing and applauding as the performers danced before the floats, the first sounds of fireworks going off as, overhead, the sky was filled with multicolored hues.

* * *

Green Arrow was barely able to get off the rooftop before a pair of workers from the parade were able to get to the cluster of fireworks, manning the digital releases and sending the rockets flaring upward, a mammoth _boom_ filling the air as they filled the night sky with color. Ollie scrambled down the side of the fire escape, rushing back to ground level as he watched the streets from the narrow alley he was now entering. He hadn't been able to check nearly as many rockets as he'd wanted, but none seemed to have had any outside signs of tampering, which was now making him more nervous than he had been a few hours before. As he got back onto the ground, he slid along the wall, staying within the shadows as he watched the events unfolding on the parade route.

The floats were at a standstill as the parade paused, allowing the performers below to entertain the crowd to the sounds of music that were echoing throughout the streets. The sky was beginning to fill up with color, each moment met with another explosion, another detonation, another flash in the skies as the night was ignited by fireworks, which were in turn met with cheers and applause from below. As everyone focused on the skies above, his Arrow Eyes went searching through the crowd, trying to locate any electronic signal, any radio frequency that might give away some sort of transmitter, something suspicious that could be linked to their suspected toxins. In a place like this, so congested with cell phones going off and electric signals firing off, it was impossible to sorts out all the wavelengths. His goggles were a mess of displays dragging his attention a hundred different ways.

Somehow, in the mess, he suddenly picked up on a pattern. It was a recurring frequency broadcasting down the street now every new feet and, his eyes skipping down the roadway, he realized the distance between signals was consistent. "It's coming from the floats!" he exclaimed as he readied his arrows.

* * *

There were no guards inside Monarch Tower, nobody to resist him, and no signs of traps that he could pinpoint. Rather than complicate things, Batman simply took the elevator. Old school, unintimidating, unimpressive, it was the only method of travel he needed right now. The floors ticked away as the lift went ever higher, moving up toward the highest floors, where the corporate offices of the research facility had once existed. As it reached its destination, the doors opened up onto a lengthy corridor, doors lining both sides, though only sparingly. A plush red carpet ran from the lift toward the president's office at the very end, its great oak doors shut now. All was pitch black, not a single light turned on in the area, but he could see the trampled signs of flowers embedded into the fibers of the carpet. Someone had been here, only recently, and was likely still around.

He began to cross the great distance, his mind already focusing, assessing all potential outcomes of what was about to occur. If Lois was inside, if she was trapped, how he would respond would depend entirely on the nature of the device. Was it controlled electronically, or manually? What sort of fight would his enemy put up? Batman considered a countless number of factors as he reached the doors which, unsurprisingly, were unlocked. The great wooden doors swung open onto a mammoth office, bookshelves lining either side of the room. A mammoth window at the back looked out upon Gotham, fireworks erupting in the distance, the parade now reaching its climax. Only the pale moonlight, blended with the colors of the exploding rockets, made anything visible, and for a moment he began to move toward activating the full spectrum vision of his eye pieces.

"Good to see you," came the voice out of the darkness, interrupting. His head swung to the corner of the room, a black gloved hand reaching out from beyond, creeping into the light of the windows as a screen that hung high against the back wall suddenly sprang to life, a view of the Metropolis parade suddenly bringing a bright illumination to the room. "Glad you finally made it, Dark Knight."

Batman's eyes narrowed as he watched the figure step into the mixing light. Six feet tall, athletic, a single hand clad in a black leather glove, his body encased within a long overcoat, Lex had become something different over the years, since his first days emerging from his father's shadow. Lionel Luthor, from everything Bruce had read, was a monster. Lex may have become even worse, considering the scope of his ambitions. "Mr. President," he replied, his eyes falling from the man's smooth head down to his narrow eyes. "I'm surprised you lowered yourself to coming to Gotham. That's a high risk to take considering your office."

"It actually makes entirely too much sense, Batman," he replied, settling a hand on the desk, eyes filled with a coldness, a detachment from human convention. It was a rare thing, but Batman saw it enough, in the eyes of a few of his enemies. Some were all too human, men driven by base greed, the need for money, power, or lust. Those were easy enough motivations to understand. Luthor, on the other hand, had an emptiness inside him that couldn't be filled. What was frightening about Luthor was that, when compared against other criminals that had been involved in their activities longer, that were older, Lex was actually far more accomplished. He had many, many years to grow, many years for that hole to eat away at him. Bruce knew what that emptiness felt like, though. He fought against it every day.

Lex leaned against the desk, breathing in calmly, folding his arms across his chest. "Everyone would expect me to be in Metropolis, if I was anywhere. Even Superman would expect me to be there if I was going to stage something. After all, that's what makes the most sense. The man in blue, versus the man in black." His head tilted toward Batman. "Hasn't that always been the way it is? Nobody would expect for me to be here, though, and that's what made this so easy," he said with a gesture behind Batman. The Dark Knight's gaze shot up and over his head, to the wall above the entry. directly opposite of the great screen. There, locked into the wall by a gargantuan locks that had been installed into the plaster, hung Lois Lane. Her arms were locked above her head and outward to the side, her feet clamped directly beneath her on a slight pedestal, mockery, a dark crucifixion. Lashed around her face was a mask, her eyes only slightly open.

"What have you done to her Lex?" Batman demanded, taking a step forward, Luthor's black clad hand shooting outward in a gesture for him to stop.

"That's far enough," he demanded, moving off the desk and fully onto his two feet, his silhouette forming against the pale light bleeding through the windows. "Nothing's been done to her. Though that can be fixed in an instant. The mask around her face can instantly secrete a stream of Joxer toxin, so I would think before you act."

Bruce's teeth locked, a growl escaping from him. "What's all this about, Lex?"

"It's simple. This is about me understanding my past. This is about me showing Superman, even showing you, that I'm no longer willing to play the old games. I've always said this was my greatest strength," he said as he tapped at his temple, "And I'd assume you feel the same about yourself. So let's do some mental gymnastics before everything unfolds in front of us."

"I am the lone member of an elite club of people to emerge from Smallville that does not remember his time there. It starts with Clark Kent and Chloe Sullivan, both natives of that small town. At one time it included Lana Lang, who is no longer in the picture, but she was essentially replaced by Lois Lane. All three of these people move to Metropolis, at which point Oliver Queen enters the picture. At the same time, Clark, Chloe and Lois are involved with a string of mysterious events throughout Smallville, and then Metropolis. Oliver Queen becomes involved with the same things."

Lex took a step forward, half of his face illuminated as the light dripped down his side. "Now let's rewind to Smallville. Throughout those strings of events are mysterious meteor infected individuals who manifest untold powers and who, at the same time, are either killed or incarcerated through the efforts of an unknown hero. When the trio of friends moves to Metropolis, the same mysterious events begin to manifest there, and the heroics begin again. This time, though, we've got photos. The Red and Blue Blur, that we would later come to know as Superman. Do you see where I'm going with this?"

Batman's eyes narrowed. "You're going to have to paint a more accurate picture, Lex."

"Superman was once known as the Red Blue Blur. Before that, he was active in Smallville, though he was never outright caught in photos."

"Are you serious, Lex? Why would Superman be working in Smallville?"

"Why would he be working anywhere on this planet, Batman?" Lex shot back. "But think about this. I recently arranged for the 'release' of Retribution and the Toyman, one in Smallville, one in Metropolis. Which one do you think Superman saved first?"

Batman didn't respond. Lex continued. "Smallville, of course, because he was there when he was young. Clark Kent continues to advocate for him to this day, as does Lois. They're friends with him and have been friends with him since he was young. They were all together, in Smallville. As I was. However, I'm the only one that doesn't remember my time there. Again, why?" He lifted a finger. "Because there are secrets buried in its dirt."

He turned his back to Batman, taking a step away. "All this," he said, waving his hands around, "Has been a game of pressure, to confirm my suspicions. How is it that at the same time Chloe Sullivan and Oliver Queen move to Star City, that Green Arrow becomes active there? Chloe, who once opposed me in the papers, a mantle her cousin took up? Either Queen and Arrow are the same person, or they're closely connected. Guess which one I think is the truth."

Lex was pacing slightly now, his voice growing edgier. "Gotham's great defender, flying through the city in a modified version of the SF-40 assault craft, or do you not think my government keeps tabs on a man who's so wealthy he can maintain a jet that costs a half billion dollars?" he snarled, shooting a glance back at him, "Or who drives a car that's about two pieces different from our assault transports now being deployed in Iran?"

His steps carried him back toward Batman. "So let's reach the inevitable conclusion of this dance. I needed to know what would happen when pressure was applied. Much like chess, I was less interested in taking pieces off the table, as I was in forcing my enemies' moves. Star City, right now. Green Arrow is undoubtedly moving along the parade route, trying to figure out what he needs to do. He knows this because he's associated with Chloe Sullivan, who's associated with Clark Kent, who's associated with Superman, who's associated with you. The one thing I wasn't sure of, about all your identities, was whether Superman could, really be..." Lex shook his head, struggling with the words. "Our minds defeat us, but as Sherlock Holmes once said, when you eliminate all other possibilities, the final answer, regardless of how improbable, must be the truth."

His finger went up toward Lois. "Anytime she's in danger, he saves her. Not this time, and no surprise, considering the amount of trouble that's been applied to Metropolis. Not only Metropolis, though, but Smallville. Any other time, though, and he would be saving her. Like he did as the Blur. Like he did in Smallville. Who's the only one that gets interviews with Superman? Those two are as close as flesh and blood."

He paused a final time, voice returning to a long, cold tone. "Superman. Six feet, three inches tall. Roughly two hundred thirty five pounds in weight. Did you know that Clark Kent once tried out for the Metropolis University football team, and that before that he played for Smallville High School? Why don't you tell me how much you think he weighed in at."

"If you're fishing for answers, Luthor, you won't get anything from me."

"Oh, I know Batman, but we both understand I'm pretty sure about my conclusions," he said. "That's why she's here, right now, with that mask strapped to her face. That's why Maximus Delivery employees are being told to make a delivery at the Queen mansion. Finally, that's also why I'm glad this happened," he said, pressing a remote in his hand, the screen switching to a view of the crowd. For a second Batman was unable to tell what he was seeing as a sea of faces drifted by until, suddenly, he caught sight of Jonathan and Martha Kent in the audience.

Lex smiled. "A shortness of breath, quickly taken, at the sight of it. Thanks for confirming my suspicions, Batman," Lex said as he stepped behind the desk, seating himself.

"I'm about to bring your presidency to an end, Luthor."

"I doubt it," he said calmly, his eyes watching as the Dark Knight shifted position. "I think you'll be much more interested in seeing what comes up on the screen next. You know, a few years ago, I finally became absolutely sure that I knew the source of Superman's powers. Since then I've been working on a device that would let me imitate them, something I wasn't able to fully invest in until I had the power of the United States government working for me. I wanted a glove, something that could project a field not only nullifying Superman's incredible strength but also allowing the wearer to imitate it. You see, it's impossible for him to be physically as strong as he is. We both know that, which means he has a telekinetic ability to tinker with the mass of things around him. The question was whether we could imitated that power," he said as he flexed his hand. "I think you'll enjoy this next surprise."

* * *

The first scream was what caught his attention, Superman's eyes shooting into the crowd as he scanned for its source, eyes flitting about as he searched for what was happening. Only slowly did he realize that the great balloons lining the parade route were now starting to deflate, the great cartoon images slowly beginning to collapse upon themselves, their figures growing into grotesque caricatures as they folding in on their own forms, falling toward the street level. He couldn't understand why it was happening or what was going on for a moment, how every float in the parade could suddenly be falling apart, until he made a sudden realization. The Joker-Venom was an airborne gas. It was being released out of the parade balloons.

Too late to stop it, his panicked eyes shot between faces in the crowd, watching as a cruel laughter began to thunder out from the streets, people doubling over for a few minutes as they tried desperately to keep from laughing, their mouths stretching outward in disgusting grins, pale imitations of a clown's. For a few minutes it was as if all of Metropolis was laughing as one, a cacophonic song that echoed upward between the buildings, rising into the air, filling up the night as the fireworks came to their end. Then, as the panic began to set in, the second stage of the venom began to kick in, the adrenaline gland of hundreds of thousands of people going into overdrive, their aggression instincts suddenly ramping up beyond control. The laughter died and was replaced by screams and shouts as people, in their panic, began to push one another, struggling to escape the streets. One push became many, pushes became punches, and soon all out brawls were erupting on the streets of Metropolis as people desperately tried to get to safety. They were so desperate they'd kill to do it.

Superman began to assess the situation, trying to identify what he needed to do first, when a new sound began to fill the streets. Gun blasts were being fired from varying ends of the streets. The LexCorp Tower warehouses had suddenly becomes centers of mass destruction as explosions rang out, the reverberation shaking windows as groups of men and women emerged on the streets, eyes burning with chaos as they fired off rifles that stung the ground and tore into those around them. It was the most direct threat he had to address and, flying forward, his vision extending to the ground, he realized that it was the members of the Maximus Delivery Company. They'd been recalled to the warehouses in downtown before the start of the parade and now, victims of the toxin, they were lashing out with the weapons they'd been given. He streaked toward them, only to be caught by a blast that threw back his shoulder, the weapon searing into his skin. His eyes shot over, surprised, looking at the wound. These LX-100s had been modified.

"They're just like the weapons Toymaker was using," he said as he hesitated a second in mid flight, only to be caught by another blast that struck him across the chest and sent him barreling into the ground, his body impacting the cement with such force that cracked beneath him. Quickly he got back to his feet, eyes staring at the groups of thugs before him, their guns lighting up with green rays that burnt the air as they struck the spaces where Superman had stood just seconds before. He elevated quickly, eyes starting to burn with a red fury.

"This isn't happening in my city."

* * *

On the rooftop of the LexCorp building, a screen came to life, Lex's face appearing on it. "Are you ready?" he asked simply, voice calm and collected.

The man on top of LexCorp turned slightly, his polished shoes clocking on the ground as he did, his gloves hands folding inside one of another. He remained quite before returning the question with a simple smiled, a large, wicked grin that stretched from ear to ear as he tilted his head upward, releasing a peal of laughter that echoed into the night sky, drifting upward out of the chaos that was soaring from below.


	13. Chapter 13: Meet Mr White

**Chapter 13**

_"Clark. I want to tell you something, and I hope it's something that you take with you for the rest of your life. There's going to come a day when, I don't know, maybe something happens to me, or I'm not around anymore. Life doesn't give us forever, son. I want you to know, though, that I will always believe in you. I know I haven't always done the best job of raising, but I've done the best I could to try and protect you from people that might want to harm you, or abuse your powers. You're getting older though, son, and one day it won't be me protecting you anymore, but you protecting others. I want you to know that I believe you will become the greatest hero this world could imagine, and, it's not just going to be because of your powers. You can do amazing things, son, but it's the way you use them that people will remember. I believe that you'll always try and do the right thing. It won't always be easy, and even I won't always agree with every decision that you make, but you're becoming a man, and only you can decide how you're going to change our world. Always remember though, Clark. People can be evil. They can be cruel. They're also capable of a lot of good though, and life is always worth saving. I love you Clark. I know you're going to become something special."_

_-Jonathan Kent_

Superman struck the ground hard, his fist reverberating through the earth and splitting the concrete beneath him, a great fissure running from him to the group of thugs now firing on his position. They leapt out of the way as great chunks of debris went flying into the air, their van tilting backward and collapsing onto its roof. He had to be careful, even if he was battling men armed with rifles that mimicked Kryptonite radiation, they were under the influence of a toxin and had little control over their actions, now that the venom had driven their adrenaline into overdrive. There were so many, though, he had to act quickly. Their rifle fire converged at once on the spot he'd only just been, his body flying backward for a moment before he changed his momentum on a dime, rocketing forward, crimson blasts of light issuing from his eyes as he blasted the rifles from their hands, the barrels melting into unusable masses of metal as they went into the air. As he halted a moment he felt two or three of them, their speed increased by magnitudes through the effects of the venom, each clambering over his body. His instinct was to toss them off, an act so easily done, but he withheld, knowing it would mean their deaths. He clawed at the one on his back, flicking them man as gently as he could at the nearby wall, while yet another clung to his leg and arm. He pried them away holding them out in his arms as they scratched at him, their eyes filled with an insatiable lust for violence. With a gentle thrust he sent them rolling along the streets, their bodies settling onto the ground only a moment before Superman was caught across the back, four, five and six rifles joining the concentrated that know tore into his back.

He grimaced in pain under the duress of the firepower, struggling to his feet. Although the rifles were patterned after Toyman's weapons, they were still only imitations of Kryptonite, and the damage one could do was limited. Concentrated in this way, though, the weapons became a true threat. He could feel the searing pain in his back, like a sunburn that was developing, a smoke coming off his cape as he tried to leap upward, to get into flight, only to come stumbling back downward onto the ground. He fell to a knee, turning about, his hand outstretched and covering his face, his forearm absorbing the fire as he gathered himself for a moment. Gathering in a deep breath, he brace himself for just a moment before turning his face upward. "STOP" he screamed, the noise resonating through the street in a sonic wave that rang in their ears, each dropping their weapons as their hands went to the sides of their heads, each suddenly unable to hear. Instantly Superman recovered his strength, flying forward in the blink of an eye and snatching up the rifles in a single pass, his eyes burning the tops off of them only a half second later as he arced upward, still being trailed by a dozen more of the thugs that had just appeared at the fight scene.

He arced back downward, his body accelerating as he avoided the rifle fire, his body slamming into the ground as he burrowed underneath. His attackers looked below for a moment, searching in all directions for a place Superman had vanished to, before the earth beneath them suddenly began to tremble and groan. Each of them looked to one another, clutching their rifles to their chests as they began to take hesitant steps backward. Then the earth cried out as huge cracks began to encircle their position, the very ground breaking away from the street, all twelve still trapped on top of the strip of cement now elevating into the air. Beneath, a single hand placed underneath it, his teeth grit with frustration, Superman now carried the twelve criminals upward. They rose high, moving along the skyscrapers, their screams echoing out into the night before, winding his other hand back, Superman struck the plate in his hand. With a thunderous boom it shattered into a dozen chunks, a dozen criminals plummeting to the ground along with the pieces. Their weapons went flying to the ground below as he watched, for a moment catching his breath and allowing his wounds to finish healing before he plunged downward, hands grabbing at the falling pieces of stone. Two, three and four he caught, tossing them into a nearby, empty alley, before repeating the process with another four. The final few he caught and took to the ground. Above him, the ex cons were just a minute away from hitting ground before , his feet moving at a lightning pace, Superman began to generate a vortex along the ground that caught each of them in midair. Their descent slowed as they went in circles, slowly coming to within feet of the ground before Superman relented, coming to a stop and allowing them to fall a safe distance, their bodies crumbling into the ground. No bones broken, he quickly surveyed with a scan of his X-Ray vision, they were all scared out of their wits and now scampering back into the darkness of the alley. Whatever effect the toxins had, it had been unable to override their Flight response.

He could still feel the pain in his arms and back, but he was recovering quickly, and he quickly zipped back into the air, eyes scanning around the area. Both Batman and Arrow has talked about vision enhancements they used to visualize radio transmissions, electronic signals and the like. He'd never been explicit about what he could do, but Superman essentially had the same capability, albeit a natural one. Quickly the crowd beneath him, which was slowly growing into an ever more frenzied state of panic, their actions growing more violent, was nearing the point of a full out riot. He could 'see' the radio transmission echoing from the floats and, plunging backward through the street, he began to whip his way down the parade route, his hand outstretched and catching each of the great balloons. Despite their great size he was able to pull each along as his hand clutched at their material, grabbing at least a dozen before arching upward, each of the float balloons ripping from their rope lines. He arched his body forward, tossing the group of them upward to the stars, where he knew they'd settle into the atmosphere for the time being, at least until he could retrieve them. He immediately plummeted back to earth, ripping at the next few balloons and repeating the process, each act another minute of his time that he couldn't afford to sacrifice. With all the balloons safely floating so high in the atmosphere that the remaining toxins in them would dissipate before they settled to earth in any notable concentration, he again glanced back downward on the growing chaos. Everyone was in a state of panic. He had to calm them, somehow. He had to speak to them, settle them down, and provide the hope they needed. Readying himself to enter their midst, he had only begun to shoot down toward Metropolis Square when the screens filling the parade wall suddenly turned to static. Something like a shotgun bang echoed out of the speakers as a torrential laughter began to emanate up and down the streets, a cold and wicked sound that shook the hearts of all below. Only moments later the static on the screens cut out, replaced moments later by an unmistakable face.

"Well look who's decided to join the party," the voice resounded through the speakers, the painted face of the man on the screen grinning, that broken grin that showed no joy, only amusement at cruelty. "That's right, you couldn't avoid me forever Metropolis and here... I... am..." he said, that amused tone mixing with a great rage, eyes lighting up as he spoke. "They call me the Joker in Metropolis. You can call me the Queen Mary for all I care. Just don't say it to my face, not that you can avoid that right now!" he said, cackling as he delighted in his own joke.

"Oh but we're running out of time for our portion of the show so I really can't stay long, so let me get to the punchline," he continued, eyes dropping for a second before shooting back into the camera. "I'm sure you're all on edge right now, so this next tidbit is really going to ruin your night. You see, the fireworks that were going off aren't the only explosives you have to look forward to, Metropolis. Every inch of the streets you've been having such a good time on are lined with lead boxes full of explosives so, Superman, wherever you are, I wouldn't bother wasting too much time with X-Rays."

Clark recoiled in horror as screams began to emanate all along the ground, people suddenly rushing, shoving at one another with increased ferocity as they sought an escape. The terrible laughter of the Joker rang out again as the people went into a frenzy, launching themselves for any exit possible. Even the police, who'd been dispatched to help with crowd control, could not help but suddenly panic as the effects of the toxins took hold. "But wait Metropolis! There's more!" continued the Joker, leaning into the camera once again, eyes sparkling. "You can actually avoid all of this. Every bit of all this craziness, all this insanity. Who needs it? Besides me, of course. No, all your miserable lives can be spared if Superman just comes to me." He winked into the lens, his tongue running over the edge of his lips. "The big blue boyscout against the clown prince of crime. For one night only!" he said with a final laugh, pulling away and walking off into the distance, his long purple coat flowing behind him as he moved to the edge of a building, the camera still following him. Clark's eyes searched around quickly, flashing from rooftop to rooftop before, finally, his face turned upward, to the pinnacle of LexCorp Tower.

"Then let's end this," he said, eyes narrowing as he burst off with a thunder boom, the air snapping behind him as he accelerated toward the roof. The world fell away from him as he passed upward, beyond the heights of the Daily Planet, past every other skyscraper in the city until he was passing the LexCorp sign that marked the heights of the building, just above Lex's own office. He zipped past, shooting past the roof by about a dozen feet, coming to a halt overhead. His cape fluttered behind him as he hovered above the roof, eyes scanning below. At the right rear of the rooftop a tv screen was set up, currently filled with static, while the camera that had been recording the Joker stood right beside it. Then, there in the middle of the roof, just a short distance from the monitor, he stood. Unafraid, unintimidated, green hair caught in the air currents, simply waited and watched for a moment as Superman began to descend toward the ground.

"Bravo, bravo," the Joker commended him in a slow, drawn out voice, giving a few brief claps as he waited for Superman to approach. "You know they always say you're in for quite a sight when you come to Metropolis and they're sure not lying."

Superman glared at the man, his purple coat flapping in the breeze, green vest pinned tightly to his narrow frame. The paint on his face was almost entirely white save for the large red grin and plain stained eye sockets, his green hair loose and drifting in the wind. His hands were covered in green gloves, his fingers fidgeting as he rocked back and forth.

Joker grinned, rocking back and forth slightly. "Well aren't you at least going to say hello? First impressions are important after all."

"I'm ending your scheme. Now."

"All business. That's no fun, and I'm all about fun," he replied, beginning to step away. Within an instant Superman had crossed the distance between them, coming between him and the screen. Joker stumbled back a step, gasping, that grotesque smile of his never fading. "You really do have almost as many tricks up your sleeve as the Bat," he said as he held up his remote, waving it back and forth, his thumb sliding to the button on its face. "I think you might want to take a look behind you though."

Superman's eyes quickly went over his shoulder, to the screen, his mouth dropping as he did. "Lex!" he shouted as he spun around, fists clenching at his sides as the face of his once-friend came to life. "So you were connected to this after all."

_"Was there any doubt, Superman?" _he asked calmly, staring at his long time foe. _"I suppose you could say I got tired of waiting for the truth to come out, so I had to put some thought. Thought into my past, where I come from, and why I can't remember any of it from before a few years ago. I reached some interesting conclusions, but I think you'll be able to get the gist if I show this to you," _he said, the screen switching images while his voice continued to narrate. In the crowd below, Jonathan Kent was clutching Martha Kent tightly, the two of them pushing through the frenzied crowds, Jon obviously breathing hard as he tried to shove off those that were pushing at them, trying to keep his wife safe. _"That's one for Metropolis," _Lex said as the image switched to Star City, this time to an image of the Queen Mansion, where a security door was slammed tightly across the entryway, while all the windows were sealed by similar steel plating. Men, thugs like those that had been hired from Maximus Delivery, were standing back and firing constant streams of rifle fire, their Kryptonite energies searing into the plating and lighting the wood surface of the home on fire. _"That's one for Star City," _he continued, the image switching a final time. This time the face of his wife, his love, Lois flashing onto the screen, her eyes half closed and her features groggy, a strange mask over her face. _"And that's three for Gotham City. You might have time to rescue one. Unlikely two, and most definitely not three," _Lex continued. _"I'm tired, Superman. Tired of having years of my life gone. Tired of you and your friends laughing at me behind my back, keeping the secrets of Smallville to yourself. Well I may not know every detail, but I've put together enough, and now it's time for you to make a choice."_

Luthor stopped, eyes seeming to look away from the camera for a moment. _"Your friend Batman is here. He thinks he can save Lois, but I have my doubts. After all, he's fast, but you're the only one that can move quicker than a speeding bullet." _The image remained fixed on Lois, her face suddenly cringing as the mask began to stain with a serum. _"Consider this some motivation, Superman. You choose who you want to save. I'll give you one intriguing option though. All three, Chloe, Lana, the Kents, can be saved." _The audio cut out as helicopters began to circle around the rooftop, film crews descending on Superman's position, the spotlights flooding the rooftop where the two men stood.

"Lex!" Superman screamed, stepping toward the screen. "What do I have to do, Lex?"

Joker's laughter caught his attention, Superman turning to see the madman taking a few steps forward, his hand slipping into his pocket and removing a lengthy knife. "The answer to that's right in front of you Superman," Joker cackled, within paces of the man of steel. "All you have to do is take me down! And I mean way down, like over the rooftop and into a grave. Question is, can you?" He asked as he swung the knife forward, Superman's superhuman reflexes quickly moving him out of the way, the blade striking at thin air as Clark moved beyond human comprehension.

"You couldn't lay a finger on me Joker," Superman spit out, eyes searching the ground, his mind shooting through all his options and any way he could save Lois.

"I've got a feeling that you can't lay one on me, either," Joker said as he crossed ground between them, tossing the knife over his shoulder, the noise of it rattling across the ground. "I tell you what. Give me just one hit, and I'll reconsider this whole plan of Lex's. Not everyday you get a free punch at the world's greatest. You might even be more popular than Batman," he snarled, his fist cocking back. "Now how many of your teeth am I going to have to yank off the ground once I'm done here?"

"You're about to break your knuckles, Joker!" Clark shouted, his voice shaking the ground as he did, the clown's face never fading for a moment.

"Then you won't mind just one across the cheek. Consider it a keepsake." Joker launched forward, his green clad hand flying through the air, and for all of a moment Clark's instinct was to dodge it as he always did. With his parents in trouble, Lois kidnapped and Chloe in danger, his eyes flared with rage as he stood his ground. How far would he go to save the ones he loved? He knew he would at least get some satisfaction out of making the Joker feel the pain he was going through.

Except the green clad hand suddenly sparked to life with an energy that had been nonexistent previously, and for a moment the world lurched, a feeling Clark had never experienced before. For a long, lingering moment he suddenly tried to pull away, but even the speed he relied on refused to aid him. The last thing he saw was Joker's face lighting up, his grin spreading so wide it threatened to tear at the edges of his mouth, as his fist caught squarely across Superman's jaw. With the sound of dynamite exploding, Superman's body went flying backward, his frame rolling one loop after the other as he went sliding toward the edge of the rooftop. Before he could fully comprehend what was happening, Joker was on top of him, his fist coming down once again and catching him across the face, blood flying from Clark's mouth as the clown dropped hammer after hammer on his face, beating away at his cheeks until Superman could raise his arms, the Joker's hand continuing to pummel away at his enemy's defenses. Clark could feel his arms growing sore quickly, pain flaring through them to his elbows and winding their way up to his shoulders, as it felt like his bones fracturing beneath Joker's assault.

"Scared of clowns yet Superman?" he demanded, laughing spots of laughter between grunts as he thrust his fist down once, twice and three more times, Clark's forearms feeling as if they were splitting beneath the assault, a scream of pain escaping his lips as he shifted, trying to grab at the Joker's wrist but unable to summon any of his strength or speed. The criminal's hand arced backward a final time, pausing for a second before slamming downward, sliding just over Superman's arms and cracking him in the face, blood bursting from the hero's forehead as his eyebrow cracked. "Maybe you should ask Lex how he came up with this kind of toy, because I'm willing to bet there's a real market for some aggressive expansion with one!"

* * *

_"We're coming to you live from the top of LexCorp tower, where just moments ago the madman known as Joker began to savagely beat Superman. Somehow, the terror of Gotham has managed to get the man of steel on his back, while terror reigns in the streets below as the crowds suffer beneath the infection of an unknown toxin."_

Batman's eyes shot from the screen above Luthor down to the man himself, his teeth locked and his voice dropping to a savage, angered growl. "You gave Joker the weapon!"

"I certainly couldn't be the one fighting on that rooftop, Batman," Luthor said as he got to his feet, waving toward himself. "I wasn't lying, though. Superman has to break the one rule he holds dearest to himself, and everyone he loves will be saved. If he doesn't? Well, I can think of little that will make for a more crushing reality to the people of this world than having their prized hero decimated by a mere criminal from Gotham, one without superpowers, one without any of the vaunted abilities these heroes wield." He allowed a smile as he stepped around the desk. "A human being, like any of us, killing the Superman. Not some interstellar villain, not some mutated being, but just an average human. Think of a future in which humanity has had its confidence in itself restored, no longer needing to rely on otherworldly people to make a future for us, but humanity making a future for itself."

"You mean, lead by people like you, Luthor."

"Of course I am already at the head of the world's most powerful country. The least I could do is lead the human race to its great golden era," he said, his smile widening. "It doesn't have to just be me though. I know you have the potential and the ability. I mean look at the two of us, Bruce," he said, finally addressing Batman by the identity he'd been alluding to throughout the night. "Neither of us had parents growing up. Yours? Shot, by a desperate criminal in the back alleys of Gotham City. What a terrible fate for a man that tried to lead his city to greatness. And me? From all I've been able to gather, my mother died when I was young, and my father was distant, aloof. Always testing me, always pushing me. Even if I could remember him, what would I be remembering? A man that barely cared, who couldn't show some compassion to his son. Either way, I would have had no father. Yet despite all of that, look what we've become. Two of the most powerful men on this planet."

"Luthor," Bruce said coldly, taking a step forward. "I had a father, and a mother. You're right. Neither one of us had the perfect childhood, but I did have a father who showed me what it meant to really lead. Yours only showed you how to be a monster." He snarled, beginning to inch even closer. "I'll tell you how your father died, since you've been blessed by a lack of memories," he said, voice low, ominous but also, mournful. "You killed him, Luthor. Pushed him through a window from the top of Luthor Corp Tower. That's the man you became."

Lex paused, his great confidence suddenly shaken, his footsteps hesitant now, taking him backward. "What? That's impossible. I couldn't have..."

"Your father experimented on people. Made creations of them. Hounded Superman. You did the exact same things. Even when your father was trying to change, become something better, you couldn't let your history go, and you threw him through the glass of the executive suite at Luthor Corp." Batman came to a halt, eyeing the quivering Lex, whose face was turned aside, the lightning now erupting from the dark Gotham clouds igniting the room. "Superman told me the whole thing, but the worst part? You had a second chance, Luthor. Even without all those memories, even without all those hurts, you still turned out far worse than your father ever was. Or don't you see the insanity you're spreading in the people you claim to care so much for?"

Lex's eyes shot to the screen, watching the scenes unfolding below, Metropolis tearing itself apart as people dug into each other, fists thrown, bodies tossed to the ground and vehicles overturned. Parents, as panicked and frenzied as they were, grabbed for their children, crouching along the walls of the buildings stretching from LexCorp down through the parade routes, trying to shelter their small ones from the madness unfolding all around them. The scene switched back to the rooftop, Joker's fist pummeling into Superman, breaking on his forearms, Clark's face contorting in pain. Finally Lex was able to tear away, looking at Batman. "No!'

"That's what you are, Luthor," Batman said as he took a step forward, "Worse than your father. Worse than anyone could have imagined you'd become. We've both got an emptiness, Luthor," he said, tapping his chest, just at his heart. "In here. Still, at least when I need guidance, I can actually see my father and mother, deep inside, showing me the way. But you? You've got nothing."

"NO!" Luthor screamed, face suddenly changing into a frightening vision of madness, clutching at his head as he suddenly saw it. In his mind, deep within, he could see his father's eyes, the last moments of regret, of pain, of anguish. He could see the last moments of sorrow in Lionel's eyes, and the moment he placed his hands on his father's shoulders and shoved him through the window, sending him plummeting to the streets far below. Lex doubled over in anguish, bathed in the light of the lighting that struck repeatedly just outside, leaning over as he yelled out a pained cry, nearly collapsing entirely to the ground.

Batman took his open moment, turning aside and, wrist grabbing at a Batarang tucked at his waist, flicked it upward, the goggles in his vision calculating a trajectory in the instant he released. Still, he hadn't even needed it, years of training paying off in one brilliant display of accuracy as the handheld weapon went arching upwards, crossing just past Lois' cheek and severing the line of the mask, the face of it falling away and the toxins spewing out into open air. She wasn't in the clear, not by far, but it was better than having a steady stream of Joker toxin filling her lungs.

Instantly his attention returned to Lex, who was again upright again, staring down on Bruce, his silhouette formed on the flashing light from behind. His black gloved hand clenched up into a tight fist, his chest heaving as he stared down on the Batman.

"Time to be the Luthor I was destined to be."

_Note: This is a slightly modified version of the story pasted yesterday, changed for clarification. _


	14. Chapter 14: Enemy Mine

**Chapter 14**

_"The Heart of Krypton. Its core. A power source that tapped into the very fabric of existence. Meant to be used in the service of others, our people committed an unforgiveable blasphemy in using it to our own selfish ends, to embark upon one of the greatest atrocities the Universe will ever know. It is not gone though, my son. Your time on Earth, your time training in the Fortress, has been to prepare you for hour of greatest need. A heart full of compassion, that inspires others to great deeds, that is what you must possess. I am not naive though, Kal-El. In this world as on Krypton, there are men with evil hearts and intent. Though at every turn you will fight to save even those who seem beyond redemption, they will choose to return to their evil ways. They will commit unspeakable cruelties and constantly seek to do you harm. Your time with me, training you in the Four Points of Kryptonian Combat, will prepare you against even your greatest enemies. Klurkor and Horo-Karu, to aid you in physical combat. Torquasm-Rao and Torquasm-Vo, to allow you to battle enemies whose powers are more than physical, who are beings of energy and magic. Yet remember one thing, my son. Your power cannot be measured in physical strength, in mental abilities or determined from a scientific algorithm. Your power is a power of the heart and the spirit. The Heart of Krypton lives in you. If you live in the service of life, to do good for those who suffer, it will never abandon you. "_

_-Jor-El_

_"Be the man you were born to be, Clark."_

_-Jonathan Kent_

Bursts of flame erupted from the roof of the house as another blast cut through the wood frame, powerful energy beams tearing away into the Oliver household, dozens of men outside firing incessantly upon the place where Chloe Sullivan, eyes watching the monitors of the mansion grounds, shook her head in frustration as her hands danced at the keyboard. "Nobody messes with Watchtower," she said defiantly, watching on the monitors outside as sections of the grounds began to slide away, the fake grass falling into an abyss as metal plates slid open, large guns rising out of the ground and whirring to life as they began to target the countless numbers of men outside. They'd pulled up all at once, in those reinforced Maximus delivery trucks, pouring out of the back with LX-100s that they'd used to tear into her home. Now, though, they were dancing away as beams of energy shot back at them. The guns installed at the Queen home were nonlethal, bursts of concentrated force that would stun or even knock out a target, but they were effective and provided at least a few minutes of respite as the house around her shuddered.

_"Chloe, are you still okay?" _a voice crackled into her earpiece, a face popping up on a secondary monitor to her right. Her face jumped upward, a smile crossing her face as the youthful image, hooded and with a pair of dark shades on, came into view.

"I'm safe for now but I'm scared the whole house is going to come down if these guys get too many clean hits. The mansion's defenses are active but I don't know how long they'll last."

_"Think I can get to you in time?" _he asked with a quirky grin, the view behind him suddenly accelerating beyond comprehension, like a tunnel of light and dark in which no shapes could be distinguished.

"By the way, am I calling you Flash or Impulse these days?"

_"I'm still trying to nail down the whole hero identity thing," _he said with a wink, flipping the communicator closed and the screen going dark. Her eyes went to the wide view of the mansion grounds, where the guns were raging away at the sides of the vehicles, splashes of energy erupting outward as they bounced off the sides. From within, men turned the corner, firing in waves of rifle fire that ate into the grass below and ripped into the defensive guns. Then, so quick that the image was difficult to see, a blur crisscrossed onto the screen, several men sent flying under the impact of an unseen fist.

"Oh Bart," she said with a smile, watching as he came to a sudden halt in an attempt to change direction. It was one of the few drawbacks to his speed, and not a significant one at that. He was suddenly whipping back toward the truck, ripping in through its rear entry, before dashing back out, slowing just long enough to mug at a security camera, an armful of guns in his hand.

Yet another voice broke out over her earpiece, though this one came with no visual. _"Chloe, did Bart get there?" _asked Oliver, a desperate sound in his voice. Her finger went to her ear, her features contorted with worry.

"Yeah, I'm fine Ollie, you focus. Is everything okay where you are?"

* * *

In downtown Star City, the Green Arrow was running across the top of one of the delivery trucks, blasts of gun fire striking near the roof as he rushed forward. "I've been better!" he shouted, somersaulting into mid air. As body reached the height of his leap, his head caught sight of a few of his enemies for all of a moment, his hand drawing back on three arrows that he released just over their heads. The proximity detonators on the tips caused the weapons to detonate, a green smoke filling the air before the group fell to the ground, unconscious. As he landed, he was immediately leapt upon, three and four men trying to pull him to the ground. He leaned forward, throwing one from off his back while he turned, delivering a swift elbow to the face of the other. The man crumpled to the ground as Ollie fought off the last two, one rushing forward with a knife that grazed Arrow across the chest, sending him stumbling backwards as they charged again. He regained his footing just in time to meet their charge, circling around one and sending him to the ground before leaping into a kick that caught the other across the back and sent him into the floor. "I've got huge problems here though," he said into the communicator. "I can't do anything to get this crowd under control with all these Maximus guys running loose."

_"Your support is minutes in, just hold on."_

"Got it," he said quickly, turning to meet another foe who'd leapt to tackle him, a whole group now converging on his position. His fist went back, hammering across one's jaw and sending him to the ground while another tried to grab Ollie across the neck. He took dropped to the ground, breaking the man's clutches before spinning back at elbowing the man squarely in the stomach, his enemy collapsing. It took only seconds before Arrow was leapt upon though, four, five and six attackers trying to pin him down, their snarling faces mad with the toxins. Ollie drew his arms up, guarding his face as they took shots, punches flying down before one took the butt of his rifle, raising it upward. Arrow stared at it for all of a second, breathing in sharply. "This is going to hurt."

A booming noise interrupted the blow, the man's body sent flailing, collapsing along the ground with the sheer voice. Oliver, surprised as the rest of his attackers, turned to look down the street. Amid the chaos emerged a lean black figure, hand outstretched, the air around it shimmering with energy as he angled his arm to the left and the right, each time a deafening _boom _ sending another attacker flying backward, the rest of the assailants panicking as they began to run away, retreating into the crowd to regroup. Oliver scrambled to his feet, sucking in a deep breath as he quickly crossed ground to meet his old friend. "Victor, thanks."

"Cyborg while we're on the job," he said with a smile. "Situation?"

"Too complicated to get in depth about. If you see someone with an LX-100, take them down. If they're wearing anything or guarding anything related to Maximus Delivery," he said, gesturing to the symbol across the side of the truck, "Take them down."

"Got it," he said with a nod. "Arthur's going to be here in a second, too."

"Of course you mean Aquaman," he said with a grin. "Great, we're going to need to round up these guys as quickly as possible."

* * *

Lex stepped down from his desk, approaching Batman, the Dark Knight leaping forward with a strike that Luthor parried with a swift raise of his hand, striking back with a blow so crushing that Batman's body was sent flying back along the floor. It had been totally unexpected, and while Lex was physically fit, he'd never demonstrated anything near that level of strength in all the years that Bruce had observed him.

"Oh did I forget to tell you?" he asked, sliding the black coat from his body, allowing it to crumple to the floor. In its place was a thin bodysuit, black, that clung tightly to his body like laytex. Feet tucked into boots that clung tightly to his calves and only his right hand decorated by the black glove, he stood, unsmiling, a cold figure that watched as Batman quickly leapt back to his feet. "Years ago we developed a nanosuit to assist my physical recuperation. That model was unfortunately stolen. This suit," he said, gesturing down his frame, "Is a bit different, though far more advanced. To put it simply, what Joker's using is what men like you and I call a prototype. What I'm using is the final product."

"You talk too much," Batman shot back, leaping forward and under a wild swing by Luthor, rolling behind him before pouncing on his back, lodging his arm beneath Luthor's chin and tightening his muscles along Lex's windpipe. The black clad Luthor growled, taking a knee as his fingers locked on Batman's arm, struggling to pry his arm away. The Dark Knight's eyes widened in amazement as Lex's hands clamped downward, the titanium alloy in Bruce's arm guards cracking slightly just before Lex was able to tear away from his grip. With a roar Luthor pulled forward, yanking on Batman's arm and forcing him over Lex's should, the Dark Knight slamming to the ground before Luthor turned, throwing him into the far wall with such force that great splits burst along the plaster.

Batman forced himself upward, the vision in his eyepieces scanning over Luthor's body. Whatever tech he was wearing was far more advanced than anything Wayne Tech produced, and in terms of the strength Lex was exerting, was far beyond anything that Batsuit could produce in terms of sheer force. It still remained to be seen whether he could take a punch though and, taking advantage of Lex's open stance, a product of overconfidence, Bruce leapt forward. He feigned with his left fist, which Luthor moved to block, before coming down with his right fist. As his hand smashed across Lex's face he followed up with two and three more punches, driving the madman backward. Batman's punches came in twos and threes, like a lightning fast boxer, as he smashed into Luthor's head. With one final, rightward cross, he snapped Lex's head backward with a vicious blow.

Lex stumbled back, head looking upward to the ceiling, lingering for a long moment. Batman watched for a half second before Luthor's head rose back up, seemingly undamaged, without even a trace of blood. There was no smile, no amusement, and with a speed Batman had rarely seen Lex brought his fist upward and down in a single, continuous motion. The punch squared directly into Batman's helmet, sparks of electricity crackling in the air in blue arcs as his digital vision was shut down, the helmet breaking down the middle as he fell back. His enhanced vision was gone, and before he could unfasten his helmet, Luthor's hand had clamped around his neck, holding him upward in mid air.

"The game is almost done, Batman."

* * *

Joker grabbed Superman by the face, turning it sideways and slamming into the concrete floor beneath their feet, blood soaking the ground as he reared up, adjusting the glove at his hand. "Now Lex said this was quite the toy but I'm starting to think he undersold the product," he laughed as he walked around Superman's body, tapping the top of his fist, a metallic clink filling the air. "And to think I got the junior version of this," he said as he came down with the full momentum of his body, tossing a blow across Clark's face that sent another splash of blood flying across the floor. He roared in his victory, grabbing the Man of Steel by the hair and dragging him back toward the screen, tossing him to the ground with a cackle as an image sprang to life once again.

This time the view was on the shattered helmet of Batman, the headpiece looking as if it were about to fall apart in several places. Superman could barely see through his struggling breath as the image of Luthor's hand clamping down on his neck suddenly shifted away, toward the image of Lois hanging far above. Her head was slumped down, and she could audibly be heard struggling to breathe, sucking in hard as she gasped for air, her lungs clogged with toxins.

"Got to say you're a disappointment Supes," Joker said, taking haltering steps forward, his was unsteady, face mad with delight. "All you had to do was one thing and you could have saved yourself everyone you think that's important. What a way to go. They'd talk about it for years, me, the one man that made Superman crack." He laughed, raising his fist once again as he reared back for a final blow. "If I can't crack you though, guess I'll just have to go all the way and break you. Going to be a real sad trip to the afterlife knowing you killed that fine reporter Lois, now won't it?" he whooped as he brought his fist downward.

Superman inhaled as deeply as he could, his muscles burning as he forced himself to roll away, the fist slamming into the concrete beneath, the Joker's fist plunging into the ground. Clark's eyes were filled with blood, the edge of his face swelling, his arms burning with the after effects of the Kryptonite burns. Far in the back of his mind, old instincts kicked to life, as he forced himself to breathe, controlled, summoning his strength reserves. Joker's hand pulled free, pieces of metal and concrete flying upward as he went into an uncontrolled swing that flew at Superman. Clark leaned into Joker's body, taking all the momentum out of the punch and tossing the two of them to the ground, Superman rolling away as they tumbled across the floor and instantly leaping back to his feet.

Joker turned, surprised, eying his opponent with enthusiasm. "Looks like big blue's got some surprises!" he spat, going into a full sprint. "That was almost Batman worthy! Let's see whether this dog's got some new tricks."

He swung again at Superman, but even though his superhuman speed seemed to have vanished from him, Superman fell back on ancient self defense methods. A simple sidestep and the Joker's uncontrolled punch once again struck air, Superman whirling him about with a grab at his shoulder before delivering a vicious punch across his jaw. The clown went sprawling backward, Superman leaping onto him in an instant, quickly sliding besides Joker's wrist, his hips sliding beneath the Joker's arm while his leg locked down on his throat. With the few moments he bought himself, Superman's fingers locked tightly around the mechanical device situated on the Joker's hand, fingers wrapping beneath it and yanking it free. A great spurt of electric power filled the air, smoke flooding from the wiring as Joker screamed, eyes growing wide even as Superman loosened his grip, sliding away, the device in his hand sizzling.

"What is this...?" he asked, struggling back onto his feet and reaching down to the Joker, grabbing him around the collar and lifting him upward so the two were at eye level, the clown's hands outstretched, an incessant laughter spilling from his lips.

"You're going to have to ask Lex about that but I promise you that you've never looked better," Joker said with a grin, laughing even as Superman's grip tightened. "Oh what are you going to do, Supes? I know you. You and the Bat... you've got nothing! All capes and bluster. Sure you go about it differently, but neither of you can do the one thing it would take to put down a rabid dog." He calmed down, eyes glancing into Superman's, mad and vacant. "That's why you've got a city on the verge of eating itself alive," he said with a smile.

"I'll find a way to put an end to this," he said resolutely, glancing toward the edge of the roof. "Just as soon as I put you away."

"Come on Superman. Did you really think that Lex's toy was the only ace up my sleeve?" Joker said with a grin, his hand flicking upward. Only then did Clark see the glowing green blade flying upward, the sharpened edge jamming upward into his ribs, pain exploding through his body as blackness filled his vision. Joker's voice rang in his ears as the clown held his arms outstretched, victorious. "All this Superman! All because of your code. Well time for you to make way for a new breed," Joker said as he charged forward, fist reeling backward for a final blow, fully aware of the effect the Kryptonite was having on Clark's physiology.

For one long moment Superman felt his body on the verge of giving way, of collapsing. He could perceive the rush of motion, the charging figure, and had only a second to act. Ignoring all the pain circulating through him, he forced his hand upward, catching the Joker's wrist at the last instant. With a turn of his body Superman forced the clown over his shoulder, sending him flying through the air, Clark charging forward with all the strength he could summon with the Kryptonite radiation flowing inside of him. As Joker tumbled along the ground Clark broke forward with a punch that sent Joker's face sideways, the clown crashing into the floor and sliding to the edge of the building, meager chuckles still escaping his lips.

"Just takes... one bad day Superman..." he said as he forced his glove hand forward, gesturing below. "That's the difference... between them and me..."

"There's a whole hell of a lot of difference... between the people below... and you," Superman replied, tearing at a nearby steel cable and driving it into the ground. Taking Joker's hand he wrapped the metal around the criminal's wrist, pinning him to the ceiling of LexCorp. "If that's all you are... a rabid dog... then it's time to stay put."

Joker grinned, glancing upward as another peal of laughter escaped from his mouth. "The boyscout's got jokes after all!" he said, eyes turning back downward, staring down onto the chaos unfolding below. "Final reward for the boxing match, Supes," Joker said, still absentmindedly looking away. "Do you really think Lex Luthor would have what it took to kill the same people that he wants worshiping him?" Joker turned just slightly, winking. "He doesn't have what it takes to really make things fun, either."

He barely acknowledged the comment as he struggled to keep on his feet for a moment, moving forward. Superman's hand went to his side as he knelt by the edge of the building, blood flowing along his fingers as he gripped at the blade, forcing it out of his ribs and tossing it away. Regardless of healing factor or energy reserves, there was no bouncing back from this. Whatever Luthor had devised in that hand technology had taken a brutal toll, and the elements of Kryptonite circulating in his body were wreaking havoc. He felt like a boxer in the twelfth round of a brutal fight.

Still, his eyes moved across the crowds, a frown crossing his lips. "I have to do something," he finally said, forcing himself back onto his feet, eyes searching up and down the parade route. It was a long way, but he didn't have to calm everyone. He just had to do enough to get things under control. Inhaling as deeply as he could, Superman fell forward, dropping off the ledge and allowing himself to enjoy the few minutes of freefall, winds whipping past his face as he plummeted toward the ground. For a long few seconds the world was rushing at him, eyes snapping open, he burst forward under his own power, flying slowly over the streets of Metropolis. Everywhere across the ground people were still desperately fighting with one another, the buildings lining the streets being ripped into, store windows shattered, while elsewhere people were clawing at one another, tossing neighbors to the ground, throwing punches, and overturning vehicles. Fires had broken out at a dozen places as the rioting had grown in intensity, catching even at the trees that lined the streets. His city was dying.

The helicopters far above were recording him now, his face appearing on every screen that lined the street, bruised but still recognizable, the shield on his chest glimmering in the light. Their spotlights fell upon him as he came to a slow hover before LexCorp, descending so that he was just a few dozen feet above the crowds, a few finally noticing the image of their city's hero, not only above them but flashing across the street.

_"METROPOLIS." _It was a single word uttered with such power that the sound of it carried down along the streets, passing outward for miles in either direction, a thundering boom accompanying the words. At its speaking the trees along the sides of the parade route bent like flowers before a hurricane, while those within a few blocks of LexCorp were sent tumbling to the ground, forced to their faces as the power of the word surged over them, its sonic impact driving them to the pavement. He continued to drift a moment, all cameras now showing the image of Superman hovering above street level, halfway between LexCorp Tower and the Daily Planet. As people finally paid attention, they could see the swelling in his face, the bruising near his cheeks and temples, and the huge gash in his side from which blood flowed. Descending slowly, he came to a stop at the podium that had been erected in front of LexCorp Tower for the mid-parade ceremonies. As he drew closer to the microphone, everyone could hear the nasal sound as he struggled to breathe, the bridge of his nose slightly askew. His hands locked around the edges of the stand, as he leaned into the mic, eyes half closed as he forced himself to stay conscious. "Metropolis," he said calmly, taking in a deep breath. "The Joker is no longer a threat and... there are no bombs to fear," he said, struggling to find words. "My mission tonight isn't done. You've spent the evening tearing at each other. I need you to help one another, now. Be better than what the Joker thinks you are. Care for each other." With that he grit his teeth, face looking upward as he raised a hand to the sky, his body beginning to arch forward as thousands of faces followed him, watching as he began to elevate into the sky, moving upward to the stars before changing direction and speeding off into the east.

* * *

Luthor appeared furious, his face contorting as he watched everything unfolding on the screen. Batman's hands had fallen away, now tapping gently at a control device in his wrist, though his eyes never stopped observing Lex's actions.

"Looks like he found a way Lex," Batman said, smiling, mocking his enemy. "Beat Joker. Saved Metropolis. What's that leave you? What point can you prove now? He didn't killer the Joker. Joker didn't kill him. Superman won, but since when is that new when it comes to your plans?"

Lex's face shot to Bruce's , roaring as he tossed Batman backward again, his body crumpling up into the wall as Lex strode forward, the two silhouetted against the grand windows of Monarch Tower. Batman grunted, forcing himself upward, blood streaming down under his mask and from his mouth, various pieces of his armor shattered and gaping holes in the Kevlar beneath. A hand went to his ribs, feeling them gently, and noting to himself that more than a few were broken.

"I don't exactly see him here," Lex growled, waving upward at Lois. "So maybe Superman can handle a clown, but I'll still make him pay for what he's done to me!"

Batman glanced upward, struggling to breathe, but able to prop himself up on one knee, staring upward into the eyes of his enemy. "Lex..." he forced out, shoulders heaving. "Everything that's happened since you came back... you've only done it to yourself." With that he tapped a final time at the control in his wrist, the office of the tower suddenly flooding with light. Lex glanced off to the side, through the windows, in time to see a large vehicle now blocking all sight of Gotham. In his moment of revelation Batman flicked his wrist upward, firing off his grappling gun so that it punctured the roof just above Lois, sinking into the concrete enough to whip him upward and to her position. In the moment he did, the base of the Batwing flared to life, a round projectile screaming through the window. It opened up almost at the same moment of deployment, a large net widening and catching Luthor, spikes in the net driving into the rear wall and pinning him. Blue arcs of electricity surged around Lex, thousands of watts of electricity igniting to life and flooding his body. Batman had no time to watch, his one hand holding tightly to the grappling gun, legs pressed against the wall, while his other hit the release clamp of the metal plate behind Lois. The restraints at her arms and legs went loose immediately, and he leaped forward, catching her and spinning so that it was his body that crashed into the ground while he cradled her above. He screamed in agony as his ribs burned with a searing pain, pushing himself onto this legs even as he felt every muscle in his body edging toward abandoning him. In his peripheral he could see Luthor's body shaking in the electrical currents even as his hands began to fight forward, tearing through the net. Still Batman forced himself onward, the nose of his vehicle just within the window, its ladder in grasp. He caught hold of it, grateful as it immediately retracted and pulled him and Lois within the cockpit, modified as it was for larger capacity. This was the previous year's model, one he needed for different reasons. Like rescuing hostages. The newer edition had less room and was basically a one seater version.

What both of them had in common? Batman flipped up the cap on the flight stick as the Batwing began to angle backwards and away using the sophisticated hover technology he'd refused to let go to the U.S. government, moving further and further away from the tower. On the display that overlapped on the screen before him he could see as Luthor had just pulled free, struggling forward on hands and knees, fighting toward the gaping windows. Then, finger sliding over the red button in front of him, he pressed downward. A slight light lit up the front of the Batwing as a heavily loaded missile burst forward, flying directly for the executive office of Monarch Tower. For just an instant he caught sight of Lex's face on the magnified display before the missile struck into him, a mammoth explosion detonating from the tower as its high reaches were blown skyward, its ancient, gothic spires and statues erupting upward in tiny bits, a massive flame roaring upward into the heavens as the tower shuddered and thundered beneath the blow, that Batwing screaming away from the hellfire that was raining through the air.

He glanced out the side of his cockpit as they flew away, measuring the distance the debris would fly, and smiled. Luthor had picked a perfect location, far away enough from the bulk of the city, to save lives.

With his helmet virtually destroyed he was forced to switch the in-cockpit communications on, his breathing labored but his voice steady. "Oracle," he said with a grunt, eyes on the horizon. "How are Nightwing and the others doing?"

_"It was touch and go there at the start, Batman. Once they got things under control with the Maximums crew, though, they were able to focus on getting the crowds settled. It's still tough out there but all of Gotham Police and their riot force are assisting now."_

"Good," he said, nodding in relief. "I'm going by the Batcave to drop off Lois and get her medical attention, so tell Lucius to meet me immediately."

_"Right," _she confirmed, hesitating. _"You are staying in afterward, aren't you, Bruce?"_

"Oracle. Who do you think I am? I've got a city to help save."


	15. Chapter 15: What We Have Become

**Chapter 15**

_"Go get 'em, Smallville."_

_-Lois Lane_

"I'm just a few miles out from the cave," Batman said, sighing in relief as, far ahead, he spotted Wayne Manor. Located far outside of the city limits of Gotham, it was always the trip back that seemed to be the most exhausting part of his night. After an evening of physical exertion he wanted, like every other human being, to go to sleep. Driving back could be its own issue. While it was still early by his standards, the battle with Luthor had been a bit more rigorous than the normal villains he went up against.

_"You doing alright up there?" _Oracle asked, voice tinged with concern. _"You've had a long night Bruce. Maybe you should think about calling it."_

His eyes sharpened, his voice firming up. "Not while Gotham needs me."

_"No one's going to question your commitment, Bruce."_

"It's not about my commitment, Barbara," he replied, sighing. "My father and mother gave everything for Gotham. I cannot... _cannot_... stand by while it's burning."

She remained quiet a moment. _"I'm sorry Bruce. If you have to go, you have to go."_

"I appreciate it. I'll be touching down soo-" The end of his words were cut off as the wings of his vehicle suddenly tilted sideways, the Batwing beginning to spin against its will, all his emergency lights and warnings ringing off around him as the cockpit dimmed red.

_"Bruce? Bruce! What's wrong?"_

He didn't answer as he fought with his flight stick, trying to jam it the opposite way and level out the aircraft, his muscles straining as it began to tilt downward. "Something's... pushing the Batwing out of the air!" he shouted, eyes darting upward as a black clad figure slide over the cockpit window, a singular black glove on his hand. The face that glared downward into the cockpit said nothing, simply staring at Bruce as he brought a fist upward and slammed it down, crushing through the nose of the vehicle and sending it into a dive that there would be no saving from. "Luthor!" Batman cried, but the madman was gone, leaping away from the aircraft as it spiraled downward. Bruce glanced backward quickly, ensuring that Lois was secured in her seat, before jamming hard on the ejection release. Twin rockets beneath the vehicle suddenly burst to life, the pair flying outward from the dying vehicle at a speed so intense that the winds pinned the duo to their chair, their hand slapped backward and their limbs trapped in place as the seats struggled to carry them away from the descending Batwing. Finally leveling, massive parachutes deployed above, Bruce struggling for air. What nobody realized about ejections from fast moving vehicles was the sheer level of pain that could be suffered as a result. Moving at hundreds of miles per hour in open air meant the physical abuse of the winds tearing at your body. Any faster speed than they'd been traveling, and the two of them ran the risk of severe bruising and even bones breaking. As it was, the ribs in his side were screaming for release, making it a chore at every instant just to suck in wind. When their chairs crashed to the ground, though, his first thought went to Lois, his hands moving to the release on his seat and his body falling forward. His legs felt like jelly and barely got him to her side, where his hands quickly switched her release, as he lay her body in the grass. He dropped an ear to her face, listening to her breathing, a pair of fingers moving to her pulse.

"Bruce... Wayne..." Her voice came quietly, weak, his face popping back and looking her in the face. It was the first time she'd ever seen him in full armor without the mask, and it made him feel naked, not that he had much time to fully think on everything at the moment.

"Take it easy Lois," he replied, hand moving underneath her arm as he struggled to pull her from the grass, his legs shaking as he tried to push the pair upward. "We've... we've got to get out of here..."

A voice boomed out of the sky. "And go where, Batman?" Lex demanded as he settled into the grass clearing, the woods at their back forming a few miles barrier between them and Wayne Manor, which sat perched on the cliff side far in the distance. Bruce shook his head, glancing from Luthor to Lois.

"She's dying Luthor!" he exclaimed, forcing a step backward, which Lois accompanied, trying to rally whatever strength she had. "I don't care... what you do to me. Just let me... get her to the manor."

"If she's dying Batman, you've got nobody else to blame than yourself," he said, folding his arms across the chest. "The impact of wind on the human body at six hundred miles per hour is a lot more damaging than the dose of nerve toxin she got. Though I will admit, if she's not administered an antidote soon there will be... irreparable damage."

Lois grimaced, forcing her face upward, looking through puffy, bloodshot eyes. "Always... knew you were a monster, Lex. Now you've really become one."

"Please Lane," Luthor spit back, his face leveling on Batman. "If you want her to live then it's time for you to try that punch you gave me before. This time, I promise, I won't hold back."

Bruce grunted, settling to a knee and allowing Lois to the ground, struggling back onto his feet. A searing pain was roaring out of his legs. At some point, the forced of the wind tossing them around had either torn or splintered something in his calves, but he forced himself to stand erect, raising his fists, bloodied face glaring at his enemy. "You want me Lex?"

Luthor didn't even smile as he raised a fist, bracing himself he took a step forward, his body rushing forward with an inhuman speed that Batman could only brace for. His eyes blurring with multiple visions of Lex, he readied, raising his hands to attempt a counter, when a sound like thunder filled his ears and, before he could understand what had happened, Lex was tossed to the opposite end of the clearing. Bruce took a knee, clutching at his ribs, staring at the flowing red cape, the golden yellow shield on its back a relief to see.

Clark turned over his shoulder, staring at the broken pieces of armor segments, the torn Kevlar, the bleeding face and, of course, multiple bruises and fractures that he could observe using his enhanced vision. "Good to see you Bruce," Clark said, nodding simply. "You've looked better."

"I could say the same about you," Bruce quipped back, noting the bruising around Superman's face and the bleeding coming from his side.

Clark forced a smile. Even now, at a time like this, that Kansas smile was still the same. His face turned to Lois, concerned, his eyes scanning over her body. "Lois, are you alright?"

"Never better Clark."

"It wasn't Joker toxin she was given," he said simply, and Bruce nodded.

"So Lex informed me."

The voice of their enemy broke through. "Are we done playing catch up?" he demanded, entering the clearing, just feet away from Superman. "Well well. Worn down. Beaten." Lex held his arms out, observing himself. "And here I am, looking like I've barely taken a scratch."

"I'm about to change that Lex," Superman growled, heaving in a breathe with such force that the branches of the surrounding trees seemed to bend toward him. "You've gone too far. You've purposely put the people I love in danger. My parents. My wife. My best friends."

"Oh, so, what now, Clark?" he asked, staring coldly at his rival. "What? Are you finally going to do it? Finally go all the way and put down your old nemesis once and for all?" He smiled slightly, shaking his head. "Finally going to live up to those prophecies carved on the Kawatche Caves? What were they again... oh right, Naman and Sageeth? The balance between good and evil? Guess we found out which one the world thinks you are."

"So. You finally remembered it all."

"No. Not all," Lex shot back, shaking his head. "You don't LOSE twenty years of your life and just have it come back in one night, Clark," he scowled, fists clenching. "But I remember enough."

"Lex. When you lost your memories, that was your best chance to become someone different than what your father raised you to be," Superman said, sighing. "You could have become anything you wanted. Instead, you became..." He gestured to Lex. "This."

"Are you kidding me?" Lex screamed, accelerating beyond human perception, his fist crashing forward into Clark's jaw with such strength that Superman was sent backward, propelled over Lois and Bruce's head as Clark tore into the thick wooded area, only to momentarily emerge in full flight, crashing into Lex, the two of them rolling into the grass and carving a ditch into the ground as the force of their bodies drove them through the soil.

Lex grabbed at Superman's shoulder, turning him and tossing him aside before scrambling to his feet, leaping at Clark's position and coming down with a hammering blow across his jaw. "How's it feel, Clark?" Lex demanded, raining down thunderous blow after thunderous blow, each strike sending out a thunder clap from the clearing. "How's it feel to, for once, not be superior to me? To know that an ordinary human could be just as good as you?" Clark fended off the blows, bringing his forearms up, and Lex, seeing the bleeding wound in Clark's side, dropped his fist downward onto his ribs. Superman screamed with such strength that the roar swept out into the countryside, grass withering beneath it as Lex clutched his hands and raised them upward, slamming them down into Superman's chest.

Superman's eyes flew wide at the blow as he summoned his strength. Lex may have gained power, but he didn't know all the tricks yet. Clark went into full flight while on his back, propelling backward for all of a second but with enough speed to buck Lex off of him and onto the ground, before Superman stopped and quickly shot back, his closed fist crashing against Lex's jaw and sending his old foe tumbling through the dirt. Clark took to a knee, heaving, his wounds catching up to him, and he took a moment as Lex struggled to pull himself off the ground. Superman could feel the Kryptonite burns, the blood flowing from his side, the bleeding and bruises in his face, the slight crack in his nose and cheeks. Yet, as Lex rose, face full of hatred, Clark was forced to return to his feet as well. He only barely threw his hands out as Lex flew into him, their fingers interlocking as Lex forced him to the ground in the midst of their grip.

"I'm the superior one!" he growled, eyes widening with range. "I was trained, brutalized, to never surrender, to never give up. I'm supposed to be the one that leads humanity!"

Clark's eyes turned upward, staring his once friend in the face as he forced himself onto his feet, battling back against his enemy. "That's just the thing, Lex," he whispered, face not full of hatred, but pity. "You could, if you really wanted to."

"What?" Lex's eyes filled with a panic, glancing at Superman's hands as he tried to force him back. "How are you doing this?" he demanded, mouth locking in a snarl. "I know how your powers work now! I know where your strength comes from."

Superman's eyes steeled against Lex's as he shook his head, for just a moment light emanating from the shield that guarded his heart, surging through Clark's body from his chest to his hands and feet. "No Lex. You don't understand a thing about where my strength comes from," he said quietly but firmly, tossing Lex back, the black clad villain stumbling as Superman rushed forward, fist hammering downward and smashing squarely against the side of his cheek, Lex's head snapping to the side.

Yet instantly the villain turned, throwing a blow of his own that caught Clark across the side of his face. "You were supposed to be my brother!" he screamed, raising his fist back for another. "But you never trusted me! That's why we're here!"

Superman returned Lex's blow with a devastating punch before the villain could drop yet another punch, this one sending Lex a few steps back. "Family doesn't try to hurt each other Lex!" he shouted back, squaring up and delivering another cross to Lex's jaw, the man's body angling sideways under the force of it. "Family is patient. Family forgives." He brought his fist upward, this blow sending Lex's face looking skyward, body suddenly growing rigid under the shock of the force. "Family loves each other Lex!" he screamed, throwing a final punch across the man's face that sent him tumbling into the ground, the sign of wounds, for the first time, across his face, streaks of blood trailing from his nose and lips, his pained eyes squinting beneath the pale moonlight. Superman leapt upon him, hands clutching across Lex's collar, mighty fingers tightening near his neck. Lex clung at Clark's wrists, voice breaking, as he spoke.

"I thought of you like a brother," he cried, eyes clenched tightly as his face filled with pain, the slight stain of tears at the corner of his eyebrow. "And you could never just trust me with your secret!"

"And you should have never asked it of me!" Superman exclaimed, shaking Lex, hands growing ever tighter. "The pain you put my family through... the hunts you went on to discover what I was... I hid my powers for so long because of what people like you would do to get at them." He exclaimed, raising a fist above his head. "The same thing you did tonight, Lex. You never changed. Even when I gave you more chances than anyone! Even when you had a chance at a fresh start."

Lex's fingers loosened, still clinging to Clark's wrist, but no longer trying to force them away. "Just... just end it, Clark," he said, head hanging backward in the grass, eyes just barely looking his old friend in the face. "Just put me out of my misery."

Clark's eyes shimmered in the light of the clearing, his teeth clenching as he screamed with a ferocity that tore outward, shaking rock, tree and limb, his fist pounding downward with such incredible voice that it tore deep into the space just beside Lex's face. Luthor's eyes sifted to the side, glancing at the gaping hole Superman had left in the ground just beside him, as Clark pushed away, getting back onto his feet and turning about, his cape softly blowing in the breeze. "That's not what I stand for, Lex."

Lex pushed himself backward, up onto his elbows, out of breath and confused. "Why, Clark?"

For a moment, Superman lingered, looking long and hard into the distance before turning aside once again, looking downward on the man that lay there. "Because I remember the man I rescued from a sinking car. The man whose life I saved. I remember the man who shoveled hay in my barn and kept the Talon afloat when it was about to go bankrupt." His eyes closed. "I remember my friend. Lex."

"I'm not that man anymore, Clark."

"You can be, if you want to be, Lex."

Luthor pushed against the ground, getting back onto his feet, staring at Clark before glancing away. Superman's eyes opened once more, watching as Lex took a few steps backward, hesitantly beginning to elevate. For a few seconds he continued to watch Superman before he turned away, accelerating quickly before he was rocketing off, vanishing into the night sky. Bruce looked incredulously from Clark to the vanishing Lex, angry. "Clark!"

"Just let it go, Bruce," Superman said, holding a hand out, the Dark Knight shaking his head as he turned to Lois, choosing to focus on her instead of the absurd choice to let Lex get away. "We need to get her up to the mansion, but she's going to be okay."

Lois smiled as she lay cradled in Bruce's arm. "Don't talk about me like I'm not here boys," she said, smiling, Superman quickly rushing to her side, his arms wrapping around her. She looked up at him, giving him a slight grin, exhausted and pained though it was. "Good to see you handsome."

"Lois... Lois I love you so much."

She raised a hand and patted him on the cheek. "I know. I'd kiss you, if even my lips didn't hurt right now."

"I can't stay," he said, turning his gaze back to Batman. "Gotham... and Star City..."

Bruce waved him off. "I'm about to say something I was just telling Oracle not to tell me," he said, heaving. "But tonight's not the night. Your team of super heroes with Oliver Queen is handling the situation in Star City pretty well. Better thank that Chloe Sullivan of yours."

Lois smiled, eyes darting up to the stars. "Chloe? Did she get the old gang back together?"

"Might not be a bad idea to keep a tighter team in regular contact with each other," Batman admitted, wiping at his forehead with the back of his hand. "Form some sort of league to help each other when we need it."

Clark nodded. "We'll talk about it more another time. How's Gotham?"

"Got a few friends helping clean the situation up. Commissioner Gordon's leading the riot squad. Then you've got Nightwing, Robin... Catwoman, but partly because I think she wants in on some of the loot." He shrugged. "I think Zatanna might be down there."

Superman frowned at the reference, shaking his head. "That girl's trouble."

"True, but in this instance let's be glad she's on our side." He motioned to Lois. "I can barely walk right now Clark, and Lois..."

"Are you asking for a ride?" he asked, smiling at his comrade.

Batman raised a finger. "Never, _ever _dare think about telling anyone else about this."


	16. Chapter 16: We Give Thanks

**Chapter 16**

Bruce Wayne, face looking slightly bruised but fairly well tended to, stared down the alleyway, eyes moving toward the rear entryway that entered into the Monarch Theater. He could still remember it as clearly as if it had happened yesterday, the criminal known as Joe Chill rushing up to him and his parents, the demand for money coming at the end of a gun. Bruce had only been a child, his father and mother still prominent members of the Gotham elite but, more importantly, its most giving philanthropists. It took only a moment, the gun ringing off, Thomas Wayne quickly swerving to protect his family, the bullet lodging inside of him. Almost immediately the killer had turned his gun on Martha Wayne, ending her life just as swiftly, before vanishing into the inky darkness of the streets, a wallet and some pearls the reward for his murder. Bruce had frozen, unable to do a thing, and in that moment could do little more than fall to his knees and cry.

That had been the first time he'd run into Gordon, at the time just a lieutenant on the police force, and it would be a decade before the two became acquainted with one another as fellow crime fighters, Gordon as Commissioner of the police force and Wayne as the Batman. Yet every year that had passed, regardless of where he'd been in the world, Bruce had always made time to visit, once a year, upon the anniversary of his parents' death. That was what made today so strange.

"I'm a bit early," he said, taking a knee, hand laying two rose on the site where his parents had fallen. He grimaced as he gingerly tried to settle his knee into the ground, still incredibly sore from the previous day's battle, his hand planting firmly into the ground at his side. "I just felt that I... should."

He didn't say much more at that moment. Overhead the clouds that perpetually rolled over the Gotham city streets were drifting, battering upon one another and wrestling with each other as they forced their way through the skies, a sliver of sunlight opening upon the rooftops as the clouds gave way. The gray pavement around him armed, the petals of the roses shining in the light as droplets of moisture ran down their petals, seeping into the pavement beneath. Bruce struggled for a second, hand moving to his brow, fingers massaging at his temples as he lingered at the spot.

"There's been a lot going on," he finally continued. "A man, Lex Luthor. I've never told you about him before. Billionaire. Vastly intelligent. Disciplined. Tragic childhood. What does that remind you of?"

He sucked in a deep breath, brushing gently around the roses, feeling the ground where his parents had fallen. The sunlight passed down from the exit of the Monarch Theater, slowly pulling forward, enveloping Bruce's frame, the air warming as he sat quietly a long moment before, a smile finally coming to his lips. With a heave he pushed himself upward, returning to his feet, looking downward for a final time at the roses that decorated the ground. "Thank you for setting an example for me," he quietly whispered, silently bowing his head in respect for a final few seconds before stepping away, footsteps taking him back down the alleyway, his shoes clicking along the ground. As he emerged from the alley, Alfred snapped to attention, looking all the part of a chauffeur, though the bonds between the two men ran far deeper than that of employer and employee.

"Quite alright, sir?" he asked, though he smiled warmly.

"Yes, of course. Just need to wrap up some business. It's Thanksgiving though Alfred, so, you really don't have to be ferrying me around all day. When we get back to the mansion, you're free to go enjoy yourself."

"There is a delightful woman, Marie, who did ask me over for dinner."

Bruce's eyebrow cocked upward, a grin on his face. "Alfred. You didn't tell me you were seeing anyone."

"Still a bit too premature to tell where it's heading, Master Bruce."

"Well, nowhere, if you don't put some time into it," he said, gesturing to the car. "Let's get home. My work never stops."

* * *

Lex Luthor stared out from the windows of one of his mansions, a retreat and home away from home he went to to avoid the press and get away from the pressures of his duties from time to time. His eyes scanned the gray skies above, slight drops of rain spattering against the glass in front of him, seeping downward to the ground. His fingers lightly held onto a short glass, a brown liquor rolling around inside of it, its strong taste still on his lips. Locked in quiet contemplation, he was slightly surprised by the sound of a door unlocking toward the rear, his face quickly shooting over his shoulder.

She entered in a simple black dress, earrings on, her hair falling past her mostly bare shoulders. He stared for a moment, slightly stunned, at the sight. Mercy was almost always in uniform and, a product of street upraising, had never expressed a desire for elegant dresses or fine clothing. Yet there she stood, that light trace of red hued lipstick on her lips, eyes shining in the glow of the fire, her feet tucked into short heels.

"I'm embarrassed," she said, taking mincing steps forward. "I never wear anything like this."

"Don't be," he said, gesturing to the table, where two plates of finely cooked turkey sat, steam coming off the plates and drifting into the air. They sat over beds of vegetables, a light glaze on the surface in a welcoming medley of color. "Happy Thanksgiving."

She nodded, smiling. "Happy Thanksgiving to you too, Lex," she returned as he pulled a chair out for her, allowing her a seat near the head of the table, where he moved to his chair. "It looks delicious."

"Considering the chefs I employ, it had better be," he said with a smile, hands moving toward the fork and knife at the side of his plate.

"I'll be honest with you Lex," she said, picking at the food in front of her with her fork, "You never struck me as the romantic date type."

"We all have needs, Mercy," he responded simply, eyes avoiding hers. "Nobody... nobody _wants _to be alone."

"I agree, for the most part," she said. "It's just sometimes we don't know any other way to be."

His lip curled upward in a sad grin, shaking his head. "You might be right."

Her face glanced up to his. "Are you alright?"

"Just..." He shrugged, still avoiding her glance, eyes in the fire. "Hard times. I've been thinking a lot about my father."

"Oh?" she asked, sounding surprised. "Have your memories been coming back?"

"In a manner of speaking. Some of them, anyway."

"So what do you remember?"

His eyes seemed to roll off, to an unknowable places, his mind darkening. "I remember a cruel man. An alcoholic, like his father was, from what I've gathered," he said, finger tapping the top of his glass. "He never beat me, though there were times it seemed he was on the verge of it. Even though he never laid a finger on me though, he never..." His voice drifted off, face locking up, vacillating between anger and sorrow for a minute. "He was cold. If he cared, it was a rare day he showed it, and he spent the first two decades of my life testing me anyway he could, pushing me to become unbeatable."

"Well, isn't that good, Lex?" she asked, gesturing at him. "Look at everything you've done. Your business is more successful than Luthor Corp ever was. You're the most powerful politician on the planet, and the wealthiest man on earth."

"You don't get it Mercy," he said, eyes suddenly shooting to her. "The problem is not testing your child. The problem is never showing it what it means to connect with another human being. To care." His fingers clutched at his chest. "There's nothing here." His eyes went to the fire. "You know I was married once."

"Well, everyone sort of does. How could people not talk about the marriage of Lex Luthor?"

"Why am I not married anymore?"

Her face was contorting, pained. "I don't know Lex."

"My father couldn't keep his wife. He drove her insane. Every friend he had, he made because it was a potential business partnership. And me? His own son?" He chuckled, shaking his head. "I was just a continuation of the Luthor name, and one he was never quite sure lived up to it. That's the shadow I live in. Worse..." He raised a hand, palm open. "I may suffer from the same inability to maintain a human connection. Life is a balance, Mercy, but I made a choice about what side to indulge long ago."

She nodded slowly, eyes pinned to the side of his face, while he continued to look quietly away. "Are you saying you don't care about anyone?"

"I don't know what I'm saying," he said, smiling, raising the glass of liquor. "One too many of these. In all honesty though, you may be the first person I could actually talk to in a long time." He sighed, shaking his head. "The first person I could talk to since I was in Smallville."

"What does that mean for us?"

"I couldn't tell you." He looked to her for the first time in a few minutes, rising out of his chair as he walked over to the fire, her gaze trailing him as he stood in front of it. "We are our parents in so many ways. Sometimes that's good. Sometimes not. Sometimes, we need a fresh start, and even when we get it, we waste it." His wrist flicked outward, the liquor escaping his glass, the fire bursting with a few seconds of life as the alcohol evaporated in its flames. He set the cup atop the fireplace, returning to his seat. "After dinner, what do you want to do?"

She stared blankly, unsure of how to respond. "Um. I don't know, what do you have in mind?"

"I'm the richest man in the world," he said, fingers again locking on his fork. "But if we're really going to do something romantic, let's do it right. I haven't been back to Paris in a while."

* * *

The hoop alongside the Kent barnyard rattled as the basketball dipped inside for a moment before spinning out, Arthur leaping upward and snatching ball from the air as Victor jumped over to guard him. Before he could move, though, Bart had moved at super speed, flying by and snatching the ball, tossing it upward for the cyborg Victor. His robotic parts went into motion, sending him upward as he received the ball, attempting to leap for the dunk just as Ollie appeared from nowhere, his hand slapping the ball out from his hands and barreling toward the back porch of the Kent house.

"Wow that's some hustle," Victor said, smiling. "You know I'm not using all my cybernetic parts right? I can go even harder to the rim."

Ollie smiled at him, shaking his head. "Yeah well, you try that. I'm not exactly playing my best right now either."

The small group laughed, Chloe watching from the back porch as she turned about, returning inside the Kent home, which was flooded with the warm orange light of autumn. "Everyone doing okay in here? Anything I can help with?" she asked as Martha Kent went between a dozen items cooking on stovetops and in the oven. Lois was hovering beside her, watching her every action, while on the other end of the kitchen Clark and his dad were busy preparing cuts of meat to take out for grilling.

Martha turned about, smiling. "We're fine Chloe," she assured the young woman. "I've got my hands full just trying to teach Lois how to cook."

"Hey!" protested the observant Lane, but she shrugged, turning to Chloe. "It's true. I'm terrible at this."

Chloe grinned, taking a seat at the table, head resting on her hand. "Okay, but I'll stick in here for a while if you don't mind. It's getting kind of boring watching the boys play basketball. Besides, this is Smallville, and it's football season."

Clark looked over his shoulder, face lighting up. "That's right! Game should be coming on any minute now," he said, leaning toward the exit of the kitchen, his dad pushing on his shoulder.

"Go on son," Pa Kent said, taking the knife from Clark's hand. "I think I can finish preparing the meat. Let's get that tv running. Maybe this year Detroit will surprise us and we'll get an upset."

Clark smiled as he walked away for a second, almost leaping to the tv, his hand going to the cable box and turning it on, eyes on the clock. "Fifteen minutes!" he called out, looking at the screen.

Chloe called back. "Thanks Clark. I'll get the boys inside. Maybe football will settle them down before dinner."

Just as Clark was getting ready to step away from the tv, he felt a hand slide along his waist, wrapping around him from behind. His hand went downward, fingers interlocking with Lois', turning so that the pair faced on another. She smiled, saying nothing as her fingers went up the back of his neck, gently pulling him forward so that their lips met, the sun outside cutting through the curtains and flooding over them, the pair holding each other tight for a lingering instant.

A knock from the door was all that broke them off, Clark's eyes going to the entry of the house, then toward the kitchen. "Did we have anyone else coming?" Clark asked.

Pa Kent peeked around the corner for a second. "No Clark. Better check who it is."

He looked down to Lois. "Your dad maybe?"

"He's got business in Washington," she said, shaking her head. "Besides, you would have heard the helicopter coming down outside."

Clark chuckled as he stepped away, fingers locking on the door handle and pulling it open, Lois at his side. His eyes shot open as he did, falling on the tall, well muscled figure, dressed in head to toe in a suit of such high quality it must have run thousands of dollars.

"Clark," the firm voice said in simple greeting, the man's eyes lowering slightly to the woman before him. "Lois. Glad to see you're looking better."

"Yeah well, you know, Kryptonian medical technology is some pretty interesting stuff, and a whole hell of a lot better than what they're using over at Metropolis General," she said, winking as she patted Clark's chest. "I'll give you two boys a minute," she said as she excused herself, walking away into the house. Clark took a step out onto the porch, the two men standing in the golden rays of the sun.

"Great to see you Bruce," he said, honestly surprised. "I would never have expected you to come all the way out here."

"I thought we might have a few loose ends to tie up," he replied, hand reaching into his breast pocket and unfolding a small slip of paper. "Considering the fact that Luthor ran everything through Joker's alias there's no concrete connection between him, Maximus, the weapons developers or Miles Agriculture. However, with Joker gone, those businesses are going to collapse pretty quickly. So, this morning, I made some acquisitions you might be interested in knowing about."

Clark eyed his friend, who sounded as if he was all business. "What are you talking about? What sort of acquisitions?"

"I bought Miles Agriculture," he said simply, unfolding the paper in his hand. "While I was at it, I decided to reimburse your family for the trouble they've been putting them through over the last year. I can't own a business that's got such a bad reputation in the community."

Clark took the slip, his eyes jumping open. "Fifty thousand dollars Bruce?"

"Enough to cover unfair losses incurred by Miles Agriculture, payback the bank, considering they were being manipulated by Joker, and leave you something extra."

"My father hates taking gifts like this."

"Then frame it some other way Clark. I'm just setting things right. Besides," he said, nodding to the golden fields behind them, "I bought out every plot of land that's been taken by Luthor Corp or Miles Agriculture over the law two decades, while I was at it."

"All of it?" Clark looked shocked.

"It's all being deeded back to the original owners. Anybody that doesn't want to return is getting financial compensation, so in one way or the other, the brand of Miles Agriculture is going to be operating under the Wayne Enterprises banner with some dignity."

Clark couldn't believe it and, almost instinctively and disregarding Bruce's phobia of touched, brought the large man in for a huge that Bruce, physically, wouldn't have been able to resist given Clark's superhuman strength. It last for just a moment before Clark's eyes shot open, realizing what he was doing, and released his friend. "Sorry, just, instinctual."

"No, you're fine," Bruce replied uncomfortably, straightening out his suit. "Just a few more details, though."

"Sure."

"You said Miles' contacts were Vanna Gravas and Sharon Quinn?"

"Right."

"Did you ever figure out who they were?"

"Just one," Clark replied, raising a finger. "Mercy used to go by the code name Vanilla. Her last name is Graves. Vanna Gravas is just a play on that."

"Good man," Bruce said, smiling in approval. "The second one?"

"I've got no idea."

"Well, again, you'd have to be spending a lot of time in Gotham to know. Joker's assistant is a woman by the name of Harley Quinn. Her mother's name is Sharon, so that's easy enough to figure out once you get those details. Mercy might have been the one that got Miles into the business years ago, per Lex's instructions, but it seems her role was replaced by Harley once Joker got involved in the plan. Makes sense."

"Yeah. Glad you think I could have figured it out if I'd just had a bit of experience around your city," Clark said with a wink.

"About that. I'm going to lay off on the dumb insults. You're obviously not."

"I appreciate it."

Bruce hesitated, shaking his head, a sunny aura tracing his body. "You let Lex go, Clark."

"We couldn't have kept him anyway, Bruce. Whatever suit he's using now..." Clark shook his head, finger running along his jaw. "I'm going to be honest with you. It's got some kick."

"You know I'm going to be working on a way to disable it."

"You wouldn't be Batman if you weren't," Clark said, smiling.

"That's not the only reason you let him go, though."

Clark's smile faded, eyes sad as he shook his head. "Of course not. There's just too many problems with arresting him. Evidence you'd need to convict, beside the fact that he's the president, Bruce," Clark said, sounding incredulous. "That sort of upset to the country... I don't know. We'd need hard evidence to bring him down anyway. Half the House of Representatives is in his pocket, after all."

Bruce nodded, unconvinced. "You're not really telling me why you let him go."

Clark's smile returned, amused at his observant comrade. "You're right, I'm dodging." He sighed, hands going to his hips. "This was different, Bruce. The look in his eyes, that pain," he said, waving his hand in futility. "I don't know. Whenever he gained back his memories... it had to be devastating. You didn't know Lionel, Bruce. Everything Lex is, Lionel was. Maybe not to the degree Lex has become, but if there was ever a monster, Lionel was it." Clark's hand pointed back into the house. "At one point or another, almost everyone in this household almost lost their lives because of what he did, and even if he tried to become something better as he got older, he almost ruined the lives of everyone in this house, in this town..." Clark shrugged. "Everyone. Chloe had her house bombed. My old friend Pete was attacked. He knew my secret, gave my dad a heart attack that he almost died from..." Clark was growing short of breath as he explained, hands falling to his side. "Lex is just one more person he touched, but everyone suffered the same way."

"But Clark," Bruce replied, head lowering. "We are all our own men, now. We have to be responsible for what we are today. And you said it yourself, Lex was given a chance to start fresh, and became the same man he'd been raised to be."

Clark's hand went to his chest, tapping at his heart. "A part of our parents are always with us."

Bruce opened his mouth to speak, but couldn't respond at the words, his face moving away, glancing at his car. He was quiet for a long moment, the winds blowing across the Kansas fields, the blue skies stretching out into the endless distance. Finally he forced the words, nodding. "I know you want to save him Clark."

"I want to give him the same chance my parents gave me, Bruce."

"I don't know if I agree, but you're a good man. You know, of all of us, you're the one who got the most normal life," he said, gesturing toward the house. "I can't imagine many better. I'm just glad that, considering everything you can do, you ended up where you did."

"Thanks Bruce. Let's not pretend like you don't do your part," he said with a wink, tapping his friend's shoulder. "Your parents are just as proud of you as mine are of me."

"Thanks Clark," he said, closing his eyes with a nod. "Anyway, it's time for me to get back to Gotham."

"Hey, wait," he interrupted, looking sheepish as he stood there on the porch. "I mean, you can spare an hour, right? Why not come in, grab some food. Game's on. All the guys are here, too. Oliver, Victor, everyone really. Couldn't hurt to pull one more chair up to the table."

Bruce cocked an eyebrow at him. "You're kidding right?"

"Well, " Clark said, glancing nervously away. "Maybe not, I mean, if you'd like to my family would love to have you."

"Clark. Seriously."

They were interrupted by the sound of the door opening, Martha Kent emerging onto the porch, the two men's eyes shooting down to her. Her hair glistened in the light, kind eyes staring at Bruce in his pressed suit, contrasting so glaringly on her simple dress and apron. "Mr. Wayne?" she asked, slightly startled, eyes opening up. The two had never met in person. "I've seen you so often on tv."

"Uh, yes. Sort of a demand of the job."

She motioned inside, toward the kitchen in the background. "Clark had mentioned you two were acquainted," she said, avoiding the unspoken nature of their association and heroics. "Were you going to be joining us?"

"Oh, I couldn't Mrs. Kent. I need to get back to Gotham."

"That's such a shame," she said, smiling at him. "Your mother and I both share the same first name, you know."

"Martha," he said, filling the blank.

"That's right," she said with a nod. "When I used to work for Lionel Luthor, we actually had to travel to Gotham on more than a few occasions to meet with your parents. You know how it is when you're rich. Not that I know personally, but working with Lionel, we'd go to Gotham on business or to contribute to their philanthropy."

Bruce's eyes narrowed as he stared down at her, mouth slightly opened. "You... knew, my parents?"

"We were acquainted. It's not like we were best friends or anything, but everyone knew the Wayne's reputation, even in Metropolis, and I did have more than a few chances to speak with your mother while Lionel and Thomas talked business. She was always so full of grace and love."

"I see," Bruce said with a nod, contemplating the information. "I really do have business to get to," he said, glancing from her back to Clark. "But I could spare a little time, while I'm out here, of course."

"Well great," she said, winking as she disappeared inside, taking hold of Bruce's arm and nearly forcing him into the house. "Clark, could you get Shelby while I serve the food?"

"Sure mom," he called after her, descending the stairs to the ground footsteps taking him out by the fence where their loyal dog was bounding up the pathway. Clark took a knee, receiving Shelby as he launched into his loyal master's arms, tongue hanging loose and panting as Clark laughed slightly, getting to his feet and walking back to the door. Shelby bounded ahead, excitedly waiting at the door as Clark leapt back up the steps, opening it wide and letting the furry dog in. He smiled as he watched the scene unfolding in the doorway, Lois and his parents hauling trays of food out, Bruce adjusting himself uncomfortably next to Oliver, while Chloe chattered with Victor, Arthur and Bart about their adventures from years before in Smallvile. His hand fidgeted at the lock of the door for a moment then, shaking his head, decided to leave it unguarded. "Won't need it," he said as he disappeared into the small home that sat, nestled within the golden Kansas plains.


	17. Author's Notes - Please Read!

**Authors Notes**

This serves as my official end of story notes for Superman: Bold. First let me thank all of you who have bothered to read my work, either in part or in full. If you enjoyed my reading, I would ask a few favors of you. I created this 70,000 word work in two weeks. I feel I am a writer by passion and love. If you enjoy my writing, fave my work, me as an author, leave reviews, and please lend me your support as I try and build a following. Publishing a book is difficult especially in this economic environment, but if I can show success in the amateur ranks, I hope to achieve the same professionally. I also just opened a Facebook page ( JasonLuthorWriting) where I intend to unify all my various writing ventures.

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**Continuity**

Some of you have noted that this piece of Superman literature is an amalgam of various continuities. By and large Clark's early history in this work draws upon the Smallville television show. I do not consider this to be a smallville story; this is a Superman story, and Smallville is an important part of Superman. To clarify where my continuity differs from the television show:

1.) Jonathan Kent's heart attack was not fatal the night he confronted Lex Luthor.

2.) Doomsday never came to earth. Consequentially, the older Jimmy Olsen did not die at his hand, but at the hands of an unnamed meteor infected individual. Chloe and older Jimmy were dating as in the tv show, but their renewed love was cut short by something other than Doomsday (I prefer to reserve such a powerful creature for other works should I do more Superman literature).

3.) By and large, Lex Luthor's history perfectly mirrors his time in Smallville, to the detail of his forgetting his past as a result of the toxin his sister implanted into him. He and Lana did get married, and Lana left under similar circumstances as written in the tv show (nanosuit, kryptonite absorption, etc).

4.) This story takes place in a vague few years after Smallville. In that time, Superman has become a hero, made villains, fought battles against Luthor, much like in the comics and cartoon. In this continuity, Lex has never been outright caught. American systems of jurisprudence require a burden of evidence to convict a criminal, which a genius level intellect like Luthor's is careful to plan around and avoid. In my continuity, has he ever donned a kryptonite suit of armor to fight Superman? Why not, except he was careful to keep his identity secret.

5.) Batman's involvement in this story draws heavily from the identity witnessed in the animated series through to the Justice League cartoons, but also requires an emotional nakedness not seen much in the cartoons though one that comes out in the Nolan films. Love them or hate them, parts of the Nolan films I had in mind as I wrote the story involved details of Wayne Enterprises' working with the U.S. government doing weapons development and how that in turn influenced Batman's tech, as well as the emotional investment element.

6.) The relationship Superman and Batman have to one another is similar to the cartoons but also leans on Smallville Season 11, in which the two's banter and relationship is warmer than in the comics, for instance.

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**Notes on Technology**

1.) Superman's biomatrix absorbs sunlight because of ultraviolet light's frequency. In my story, raw Krpytonite has a poisonous effect because the frequency of energy it emits has an inhibiting effect on his cells to process stored energy reserves.

2.) The Pseudo-K used by Toyman and Maximus thugs cannot perfectly replicate this effect because the frequency is so specific, so rather than have a totally inhibiting effect on his cells, they produce a sensation human beings would equate to an intense burn, which is really just the sensation of cells contracting and dying.

3.) I've introduced a new element behind Superman's strength that leans somewhat on multiple continuities as well as a story element of my own. As per the Golden Age, Superman has a natural strength and stamina exceeded humanity's because of rougher conditions and gravity environments. However, not nearly enough to say, push a planet.

4.) Because of this, we look at Silver Age and Modern Age's story of Superman's powers, which involve his absorption of solar rays and processing them to fuel his powers.

5.) However, his powers cannot be physically based alone, as noted on the Superman wiki, theorized by physicists, and presented in the "bad Superman" comic books, Irredeemable. Because of this, I rely on the theory that much of what Superman does is telekinetic, manipulating physical mass on a quantum level. Once Lex comes to the same realization, he bases his own tech on mimicking that effect. He cant' do everything Superman does, but he can trade blows with him, hurt him in a punching match, and so on, since the tech allows him to decrease the mass of what he contacts in the same way Superman does, making it weak to a strike.

6.) I've borrowed on the Snyder work, Man of Steel, in one respect. Superman has the genetic potential of all Krypton inside of him, which is why he is capable of manifesting such a wide variety of abilities in various situations. His sheer genetic variance is beyond comparison.

7.) Finally, I've introduced a personal element, the Heart of Krypton. In my continuity, Kryptonians stood side by side with other sentient races at the beginning of Universal civilization. They competed with races such as those from Oa, the Guardians of the Galaxy. These founding societies each tried to order the Universe in their own way. The same way the Guardians have the Green Lantern Battery, Krypton had something known as the Heart of Krypton at their planetary core, which allowed their race such flexibility and power variance, as well as nearly unmatched intellect. It was a manifestation of the Source and was meant to promote life; when the Kryptonians used it in one of the largest genocides in history, it abandoned them, leaving the core of Krypton to detonate. The power source, though, was not a physical one, and lived on through all Kryptonians who lived in the service of promoting life. Because Superman holds life to be sacred and with such high esteem, in his moment of greatest need, it can fuel him and give him power in a way that goes beyond what we have already established to this point. It's a 'second gear', so to say, that can help him fight on even when his body has been battered beyond normal recovery.

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**Final Notes**

Thank you to everyone that has read this story. Two weeks of hard work. Please follow me as I begin to plot out my next tale. I'm thinking of doing a take on Batman next. And I have original fiction I will be posting to FictionNet as well, so if you enjoy my style, please continue to chart my writing career as I fight this year to become contracted and published.

With all the best wishes,

Jason Luthor.


	18. Author's Notes Pt 2

Just a friendly reminder, all. If you're enjoying Superman: Bold you might also enjoy Batman: Brave.

Also, I have an ebook on Amazon if you feel like supporting my writing endeavours as I continue trying to get published. It's called The Golden Anvil by Jason Luthor, so pick it up if you enjoy middle grade and young adult fantasy written not so much as epic as rousing, adventurous and magical.


	19. Author's Announcement

Even though my previous Superman story involved Batman, it was definitely more Superman centered, with Batman toward the side. For my World's Finest, I'm going to have Batman as a main player, involve Selina in the plot, and introduce some secondary characters from the Justice League universe I haven't previously used as I start creeping toward a Justice League story far down the line. There will be repercussions from both Superman: Bold and Batman: Brave in terms of the Earth-JL universe I've authored, and hopefully we're going to have some fun with this.


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